hearts. If he
could not win her heart, her will, he would go alone, and die praying
for her.

He sprang from the steps of the Caesareum, and turned up the street of
the Museum. Alas! it was one roaring sea of heads! They were sacking
Theon's house--the house of so many memories! Perhaps the poor old man
too had perished! Still--his sister! He must save her and flee. And he
turned up a side street and tried to make his way onward.

Alas again! the whole of the dock-quarter was up and out. Every street
poured its tide of furious fanatics into the main river; and ere he
could reach Pelagia's house the sun was set, and close behind him,
echoed by ten thousand voices, was the cry of 'Down with all heathens!
Root out all Arian Goths! Down with idolatrous wantons! Down with
Pelagia Aphrodite!'

He hurried down the alley, to the tower door, where Wulf had promised
to meet him. It was half open, and in the dusk he could see a figure
standing in the doorway. He sprang up the steps, and found, not Wulf,
but Miriam.

'Let me pass!'

'Wherefore?'

He made no answer, and tried to push past her.

'Fool, fool, fool!' whispered the hag, holding the door against him with
all her strength. 'Where are your fellow-kidnappers? Where are your band
of monks?'

Philammon started back. How had she discovered his plan?

'Ay--where are they? Besotted boy! Have you not seen enough of monkery
this afternoon, that you must try still to make that poor girl even such
a one as yourselves? Ay, you may root out your own human natures if you
will, and make yourselves devils in trying to become angels: but woman
she is, and woman she shall live or die!'

'Let me pass!' cried Philammon furiously.

'Raise your voice--and I raise mine: and then your life is not worth a
moment's purchase. Fool, do you think I speak as a Jewess? I speak as
a woman--as a nun! I was a nun once, madman--the iron entered into my
soul!--God do so to me, and more also, if it ever enter into another
soul while I can prevent it! You shall not have her! I will strangle her
with my own hand first!' And turning from him, she darted up the winding
stair.

He followed: but the intense passion of the old hag hurled her onward
with the strength and speed of a young Maenad. Once Philammon was
near passing her. But he recollected that he did not know his way, and
contented himself with keeping close behind, and making the fugitive his
guide.

Stair after stair, he fled upward