"She was a heathen," said Dorothea, drying her eyes, "but for such a
death the Lord will forgive her much."

"I loved her dearly," said Marthana, "and will lay my sweetest flowers on
her grave. May I cut some sprays from your blooming myrtle for a
wreath?"

"To-morrow, to-morrow, my child," replied Dorothea. "Now go to rest; it
is already very late."

"Only let me stay till Antonius and Jethro come back," begged the girl.

"I would willingly help you to find your son," said Hermas, "and if you
wish I will go to Raithu and Klysma, and enquire among the fishermen.
Had the centurion--" and as he spoke the young soldier looked down in
some embarrassment, "had the centurion found his fugitive wife of whom he
was in pursuit with Talib, the Amalekite, before he died?"

"Sirona has not yet reappeared," replied Petrus, and perhaps--but just
now you mentioned the name of Paulus, who was so dear to you and your
father. Do you know that it was he who so shamelessly ruined the
domestic peace of the centurion?"

"Paulus!" cried Hermas. "How can you believe it?"

"Phoebicius found his sheepskin in his wife's room," replied Petrus
gravely. "And the impudent Alexandrian recognized it as his own before
us all and allowed the Gaul to punish him. He committed the disgraceful
deed the very evening that you were sent off to gain intelligence."