ill, and Perpetua, rising,
followed him. Standing by his side she looked down the slope of the
mountain, and saw, far away, on the long, white road, a moving mass and
the gleam of gold and steel.

"It is the King's company," Theron said, sadly. "In-doors with you,
sword and singer."

Instantly obedient, Perpetua turned, took the sword from the tree
against which she had propped it when Theron arrived, and entered the
dwelling, murmuring as she went another verse of the sword-song:

"The gods of Hellas
Blessed it with beauty;
The gods of Norland
Filled it with fury."

As she passed, singing, out of sight beneath the turquoise-tinted dome,
Theron looked after her sadly. Then he went again to the brow of the
hill and looked down the green slope, clothed thickly with venerable
trees, cypress and pine and pepper tree, tamarisk and prickly pear, to
the fair city beyond, nestling amid her groves of gray-leaved olive and
green-leaved almond, her vineyards, her orchards of peach and apple and
fig.

"Unhappy Syracuse!" he sighed. "Evil hours are gathering about you as
the vultures gather around the dead body that is cast into the
Barathron. It was whispered within your walls this morning that one had
died of the plague, but this proud prince is worse than any plague."

He sighed again as he watched the distant procession moving slowly
onward. His keen sight could distinguish horsemen and litters, golden
trappings, many-colored banners; his keen ears caught, with no pleasure,
the triumphant swell of the royal music. It would be a long while yet
before the new King and his people could reach the shrine of the
archangel. There was a point on the steep hill-side where horseman must
dismount, where lady must leave litter and continue the ascent on foot.

Theron still seemed to gaze at the slowly advancing cortege, but his
mind was far away from the glittering, tinkling company. He was turning
in fancy the pages of his past, as he might have turned the pages of
some painted manuscript, and reading therein the record of his strange
life. He saw himself in his boyhood, the son of the hereditary
executioner, aiding his father's task, learning his father's trade,
patient and unashamed. He saw himself in his young manhood loving beyond
his star, and his heart quickened as he thought of youth and beauty. He
saw himself in his prime, and his eyes filled as he thought of youth and
beauty wronged, betrayed, and aba