His gait is
limping, his stature crooked, his proportions distorted. His large,
angular features stand out in gaunt contrast to his shrivelled cheeks.
His dry, matted hair has been burnt by the sun into a strange tawny
brown. His expression is one of fixed, stern, mournful thought. As he
steps stealthily along, advancing towards Antonina, he mutters to
himself, and clutches mechanically at his garments with his lank,
shapeless fingers. The radiant moonlight, falling fully upon his
countenance, invests it with a livid, mysterious, spectral appearance:
seen by a stranger at the present moment, he would have been almost
awful to look upon.
This was the man who had intercepted Vetranio on his journey home, and
who had now hurried back so as to regain his accustomed post before his
master's return, for he was the same individual mentioned by Numerian as
his aged convert, Ulpius, in his interview with the landholder at the
Basilica of St. Peter.
When Ulpius had arrived within a few paces of the girl he stopped,
saying in a hoarse, thick voice--
'Hide your toy--Numerian is at the gates!'
Antonina started violently as she listened to those repulsive accents.
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