He found himself, however,
restrained by Antonina, who had fallen on her knees before him, and
grasped his robe with a strength which seemed utterly incompatible with
the slenderness of her form and the feebleness of her sex and age.
The first voice that broke the silence which ensued was Numerian's. He
advanced, his face ghastly with anguish, his lip quivering with
suppressed emotions, to the senator's side, and addressed him thus:--
'Put up your weapon; I come but to ask a favour at your hands.'
Vetranio mechanically obeyed him. There was something in the stern
calmness, frightful at such a moment, of the Christian's manner that
awed him in spite of himself.
'The favour I would petition for,' continued Numerian, in low, steady,
bitter tones, 'is that you would remove your harlot there, to your own
abode. Here are no singing-boys, no banqueting-halls, no perfumed
couches. The retreat of a solitary old man is no place for such an one
as she. I beseech you, remove her to a more congenial home.
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