and then. Oh, that I could poison
him! But one can't bribe those ecclesiastics; and as for the dagger, one
could not hire a man to be torn in pieces by monks. No; I must just sit
still, and see what Fortune's dice may turn up. Well, your pedants like
Aristides or Epaminondas--thank Heaven, the race of them has died
out long ago!--might call this no very creditable piece of provincial
legislation; but after all, it is about as good as any now going, or
likely to be going till the world's end; and one can't be expected to
strike out a new path. I shall stick to the wisdom of my predecessors,
and--oh, that Cyril may make a fool of himself to-night!'

And Cyril did make a fool of himself that night, for the first and last
time in his life; and suffers for it, as wise men are wont to do when
they err, to this very day and hour: but how much Orestes gained by his
foe's false move cannot be decided till the end of this story; perhaps
not even then.

CHAPTER XXIV: LOST LAMBS

And Philammon?

For a long while he stood in the street outside the theatre, too much
maddened to determine on any course of action; and, ere he had recovered
his self-possession, the crowd began to pour from every outlet, and
filling the street, swept him away in its stream.

Then, as he heard his sister's name, in every tone of pity, contempt,
and horror, mingle with their angry exclamations, he awoke from his
dream, and, bursting through the mob, made straight for Pelagia's house.

It was fast closed; and his repeated knocks at the gate brought only,
after long waiting, a surly negro face to a little wicket.

He asked eagerly and instinctively for Pelagia; of course she had not
yet returned. For Wulf he was not within. And then he took his station
close to the gateway, while his heart beat loud with hope and dread.

At last the Goths appeared, forcing their way through the mob in a close
column. There were no litters with them. Where, then, were Pelagia and
her girls? Where, too, was the hated figure of the Amal? and Wulf, and
Smid? The men came on, led by Goderic and Agilmund, with folded arms,
knitted brows, downcast eyes: a stern disgust, not unmingled with shame,
on every countenance, told Philammon afresh of his sister's infamy.

Goderic passed him close, and Philammon summoned up courage to ask for
Wulf.... Pelagia he had not courage to name.

'Out, Greek hound! we have seen enough of your accursed race to-day!
What? are you tryi