smiled. She placed her hand over them lightly, as if to incline him
to slumber. A great sweetness seized him then; but soon he felt more
grievously ill than before, and was very ill in reality. Night had come,
and with it a more violent fever. He could not sleep, and followed Lygia
with his eyes wherever she went.

At times he fell into a kind of doze, in which he saw and heard
everything which happened around him, but in which reality was mingled
with feverish dreams. It seemed to him that in some old, deserted
cemetery stood a temple, in the form of a tower, in which Lygia was
priestess. He did not take his eyes from her, but saw her on the summit
of the tower, with a lute in her hands, all in the light, like those
priestesses who in the night-time sing hymns in honor of the moon,
and whom he had seen in the Orient. He himself was climbing up winding
steps, with great effort, to bear her away with him. Behind was creeping
up Chilo, with teeth chattering from terror, and repeating, "Do not
do that, lord; she is a priestess, for whom He will take vengeance."
Vinicius did not know who that He was, but he understood that he himself
was going to commit some sacrilege, and he felt a boundless fear also.
But when he went to the balustrade surrounding the summit of the tower,
the Apostle with his silvery beard stood at Lygia's side on a sudden,
and said:

"Do not raise a hand; she belongs to me." Then he moved forward with
her, on a path formed by rays from the moon, as if on a path made to
heaven. He stretched his hands toward them, and begged both to take him
into their company.

Here he woke, became conscious, and looked before him. The lamp on the
tall staff shone more dimly, but still cast a light sufficiently clear.
All were sitting in front of the fire warming themselves, for the night
was chilly, and the chamber rather cold. Vinicius saw the breath coming
as steam from their lips. In the midst of them sat the Apostle; at his
knees, on a low footstool, was Lygia; farther on, Glaucus, Crispus,
Miriam, and at the edge, on one side Ursus, on the other Miriam's son
Nazarius, a youth with a handsome face, and long, dark hair reaching
down to his shoulders.

Lygia listened with eyes raised to the Apostle, and every head was
turned toward him, while he told something in an undertone. Vinicius
gazed at Peter with a certain superstitious awe, hardly inferior to that
terror which he felt during the fever dream. The thought p