He
staggered, lifted his hand again to sign his forehead with the cross,
and, as he raised it, rolled back dead on the pavement of the street.
The soldier, standing motionless with superstitious terror a few feet
from the corpse, called to his companions for help. Hurling his bloody
weapon at them in defiance, as they ran in confusion to the base of the
temple steps, Ulpius entered the building, and locked and chained the
gates.
Then the assembled people thronging round the corpse of the priest,
heard the madman shouting in his frenzy, as if to a great body of
adherents round him, to pour down the molten lead and the scorching
sand; to hurl back every scaling ladder planted against the walls; to
massacre each prisoner who was seized mounting the ramparts to the
assault; and as they looked up to the building from the street, they saw
at intervals, through the bars of the closed gates, the figure of Ulpius
passing swift and shadowy, his arms extended, his long grey hair and
white robes streaming behind him, as he rushed round and round the
temple reiterating his wild Pagan war-cries as he went.
Pages:
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798