as they could. It was growing dusk when they turned into a wayside inn,
where they found Agne and her little brother captives to a soldier.
During the night the girl had crept up to the little boy's bed, and to
comfort and lull him had begun to sing him a simple song. The singer's
voice was so pure and pathetic that it had touched both him and his wife
and they had at once purchased the girl and her brother for a small sum.
He had simply paid what the soldier asked, not regarding the children in
the light of slaves; nor had he had any description of them written out,
though it was, no doubt, in his power to treat them as slaves and to sell
them again, since the sale had taken place before witnesses who might
still be found. He had afterwards learnt from the girl that her parents
were Christians and had settled in Antioch only a few years previously;
but she had no friends nor relatives there. Her father, being a tax-
collector in the service of the Emperor, had moved about a great deal,
but she remembered his having spoken of Augusta Treviroruin in Belgica
prima, as his native place.--[Now Trier or Treves, on the Moselle.]

Agne had witnessed the attack on her father's house by the angry mob who
had killed her parents, their two slaves, and her elder brother. Her
father must certainly have been an official of some rank, and probably,
as it would seem, a Roman citizen, in which case--as Porphyrius agreed--
both the young girl and her little brother could legally claim their
freedom. The insurgents who had dragged the two children out into the
street had been driven off by the troops, and it was from them that
Karnis had rescued them. "And I have never regretted it," added the old
musician, "for Agne is a sweet, gentle soul. Of her voice I need say
nothing, since you yourselves heard it yesterday."

"And were quite delighted with it!" cried Gorgo. "If flowers could sing
it would be like that!"