every
movement and look; she watched him keenly, and saw the loving and
compassionate expression with which he fixed his gaze on the noble
features of Serapis, saw him clutch his left hand to his heart as if in
pain. The crowd below might fancy that he lacked courage, that he was
absorbed in prayer, or that his soul shrank from dealing the fateful blow
to the great divinity; but she could see that he was bidding a silent
farewell, as it were, to the sublime work of an inspired artist, which it
pained and shocked him to destroy. And this comforted her; it gave her
views of the situation a new direction, and suggested the question
whether he, a soldier and a Christian, when commanded by his superior to
do this deed ought to shrink or hesitate, if he were indeed, heart and
soul, what, after all, he was. Her eyes clung to him, as a frightened
child clings to its mother's neck; and the expectant thousands, in an
agony of suspense, like her, saw nothing but him.

Stillness more profound never reigned in the heart of the desert than now
in this vast and densely-crowded hall. Of all man's five senses only one
was active: that of sight; and that was concentrated on a single object a
man's hand holding an axe. The hearts of thousands stood still, their
breath was suspended, there was a singing in their ears, a dazzling light
in their eyes--eyes that longed to see, that must see--and that could
not; thousands stood there like condemned criminals, whose heads are on
the block, who hear the executioner behind them, and who still, on the
very threshold of death, hope for respite and release.

Gorgo found no answer to her own questionings; but she, too, wanted to
see--must see. And she saw Constantine close his eyes, as though he dared
not contemplate the deed that Fate had condemned him to do; she saw him
lay his left hand on the god's sacred beard, saw him raise his right for
the fatal blow--saw, heard, felt the axe crash again and again on the
cheek of Serapis--saw the polished ivory fall in chips and shavings,
large and small, on the stone floor, and leap up with an elastic rebound
or shiver into splinters. She covered her face with her hands and hid her
head in the curtain, weeping aloud. She could only moan and sob, and feel
nothing, think nothing but that a momentous and sinister act had been
perpetrated. An appalling uproar like the noise of thunder and the
beating of surf rose up on every side, but she heeded it not; and whe