rection into the ear
of Nicephorus. By the altar, watching all, sat a stern-faced monk, the
confessor of the Caesars and of the _Nobilissimi_, who was put there to
spy upon them.

I followed the rite to its end, observing these unhappy prisoners
seeking from the mystery of their faith the only consolation that
remained to them. Many of them were men innocent of any crime, save that
of adherence to some fallen cause, political or religious; victims were
they, not sinners, to be released by death alone. I remember that, as
the meaning of the scene came home to me, I recalled the words of Irene,
who had said that she believed this world to be a hell, and found weight
in them. At length, able to bear no more, I left my hiding-place and
went into the garden behind the chapel. Here, at least, were natural
things. Here flowers, tended by the prisoners, bloomed as they might
have done in some less accursed spot. Here the free birds sang and
nested in the trees, for what to them were the high surrounding walls?

I sat myself down upon a seat in the shade. Presently, as I had
expected, Nicephorus, the priest-Caesar, and his four brethren came into
the garden. Two of them led the blind man by the hand, and the other two
clung close to him, for all these unfortunates loved each other dearly.
The four with the split tongues gabbled in his ears. Now and again,
when he could catch or guess at the meaning of a word, he answered the
speaker gently; or the others, seeing that he had not understood them
aright, painfully tried to explain the error. Oh! it was a piteous thing
to see and hear. My gorge rose against the young brute of an Emperor
and his councillors who, for ambition's sake, had wrought this horrible
crime. Little did I know then that ere long their fate would be his own,
and that a mother's hand would deal it out to him.

They caught sight of me seated beneath the tree, and chattered like
startled starlings, till at length Nicephorus understood.

"What say you, dear brothers?" he asked, "that the new governor of the
prison is seated yonder? Well, why should we fear him? He has been here
but a little while, yet he has shown himself very kind to us. Moreover,
he is a man of the North, no treacherous Greek, and the men of the North
are brave and upright. Once, when I was a free prince, I had some of
them in my service, and I loved them well. Our nephew, the Emperor,
offered a large sum to a Northman to blind or murder me, bu