the request of the dying man,
who again closed his eyes; but only to reopen them, and to say, with the
same difficulty, but with perfect consciousness: "The end is at hand!
The blessing of the Church--Orion, the Bishop."

The young man hastened out of the room to fetch the prelate, who was
waiting in the viridarium with two deacons, an exorcist, and a sacristan
bearing the sacred vessels.

The governor listened in devout composure to the service of the last
sacrament, looked on at the ceremonies performed by the exorcist as,
with waving of hands and pious ejaculations he banned the evil spirits
and cast out from the dying man the devil that might have part in him;
but he could no longer swallow the bread which, in the Jacobite rite,
was administered soaked in the wine. Orion took the holy elements for
him, and the dying man, with a smile, murmured to his son:

"God be with thee, my son! The Lord, it seems, denies me His precious
Blood--and yet--let me try once more."

This time he succeeded in swallowing the wine and a few crumbs of bread;
and the bishop Ptolimus, a gentle old man of a beautiful and dignified
presence, spoke comfort to him, and asked him whether he felt that he
was dying penitent and in perfect faith in the mercy of his Lord and
Saviour, and whether he repented of his sins and forgave his enemies.

The sick man bowed his head with an effort and murmured:

"Even the Melchites who murdered my sons--and even the head of our
Church, the Patriarch, who was only too glad to leave it to me to
achieve things which he scrupled to do himself. That--that--But you,
Ptolimus--a wise and worthy servant of the Lord--tell me to the best
of your convictions: May I die in the belief that it was not a sin to
conclude a peace with the Arab conquerors of the Greeks?--May I, even at
this hour, think of the Melchites as heretics?"

The prelate drew his still upright figure to its full height, and
his mild features assumed a determined--nay a stern expression as he
exclaimed:

"You know the decision pronounced by the Synod of Ephesus--the words
which should be graven on the heart of every true Jacobite as on marble
and brass 'May all who divide the nature of Christ--and this is what the
Melchites do--be divided with the sword, be hewn in pieces and be burnt
alive!'--No Head of our Church has ever hurled such a curse at the
Moslems who adore the One God!"

The sufferer drew a deep breath, but he presently added with a