The mute, soulless, ghastly stillness of death looked
settled on his features, as, unconscious now of weakness or age, he rose
with her in his arms, stood motionless for one moment before the
doorway, and looked slowly round on Ulpius; then he moved forward with
heavy regular steps. The Pagan's foot was still on Goisvintha's breast
as the father passed him; his gaze was still fixed on her; but his cries
of triumph were calmed; he laughed and muttered incoherently to himself.
The moon was rising, soft, faint, and tranquil, over the quiet street as
Numerian descended the temple steps with his daughter in his arms, and,
after an instant's pause of bewilderment and doubt, instinctively
pursued his slow, funereal course along the deserted roadway in the
direction of home. Soon, as he advanced, he beheld in the moonlight,
down the long vista of the street at its termination, a little
assemblage of people walking towards him with calm and regular progress.
As they came nearer, he saw that one of them held an open book, that
another carried a crucifix, and that others followed these two with
clasped hands and drooping heads.
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