could perceive by the trembling of the curtain near which she and
Apuleius were standing, how deeply the physician was agitated. It was as
though the axe had been displayed with which a king was about to be
decapitated.

Now the Bishop came in with the municipal dignitaries; priests and monks,
chanting as they walked, filled the broad hall, incessantly making the
sign of the cross; and the crowd that poured into the hypostyle pressed
as far forward as they were allowed by the chain which the soldiers held
outstretched between them and their superiors.

The populace-heathen and Christian of every sect and degree-filled the
aisles, too; but the chain also kept them off the upper end, on to which
the room opened in which Porphyrius lay; so that Gorgo's view of the
curtain and apse remained unhindered.

The psalm rang loudly through the temple-courts above the murmur and
grumble of the angry, terrified and expectant mob. They were prepared
for the worst; each one knew the crime which was to be perpetrated, and
yet few, perhaps, really believed that any one would dare to commit it.
Whichever way she looked Gorgo saw only white faces, stamped with
passion, dismay, and dread. The very priests and soldiers themselves had
turned pale, and stood with bloodless cheeks and set teeth, staring at
the ground; some, to disguise their alarm, cast wrathful and defiant
glances at the rebellious mob, who tried to drown the psalm-singing in
loud menaces and curses, and the echoes of the great building doubled
their thousand voices.

A strange unrest seethed in this dense mass of humanity. The heathen
were trembling with rage, clutching their amulets and charms, or shaking