d menaced him, now suddenly released the
wrists of his adversary, and, grasping him by the throat, he lifted his
head several times, and struck it violently against the pavement. The
Carthaginian groaned, and his hold relaxed for a moment. Then, tearing
himself free, and with one hand still gripping the throat of the
prostrate man, the Roman raised his body, and, turning toward Marcia,
reached out for the dagger. With eyes fixed wonderingly on his, she
gave it to him, as if only half conscious of her act.

Again the scene changed. Less helpless than he had seemed, and with
staring eyes, before which death danced, Iddilcar gathered all his
remaining strength for one last, despairing effort, wrenched himself
loose, and staggered to his feet.

Then Marcia saw Sergius, for she knew now it was indeed he, saw him
throw himself forward on his knees, and, catching Iddilcar about the
hips, plunge the blade into his side.

The priest shrieked once, as he felt the point, and struggled furiously
to escape, raining blows upon the other's head and shoulders. Again
the long dagger rose and fell, piercing the man's entrails. Gods!
would he never fall?--and still he maintained his footing, but now his
hands beat only the air, and his struggles became agonized writhings.
Sergius' grip about his hips had never loosened, and the dagger rose
and fell a third time. Iddilcar groaned long and deeply and sank down
in a heap, carrying his slayer with him.

XII.

FLIGHT.

Slowly Sergius disengaged himself from the death grip that entangled
him, and, rising, turned to where Marcia stood. Still holding the
lighted lamp above her head and peering forward, she gazed into his
eyes with a look wherein wonder and terror were mingled with awakening
joy.

"Who are you?" she faltered at last; "you who come as a slave, bearing
the face of a shade?"

"I _am_ a shade," he answered; "one sent back by Orcus--by the hand of
Mercury, to save a Roman woman from dishonour."

"Oh, my lord Lucius!" she cried, falling upon her knees and holding out
her hands toward him. "Truly it was not dishonour to avenge you, to
save the Republic; but if it were, then may your manes pity and forgive
me. There, now, is the dagger. Take it and use it, so that I, too,
may be your companion when you return to the land that owns you. I
love you, Lucius; the laughter of the old days has passed. Surely a
woman who is about to die may say to the dead words wh