And Philammon?
For a long while he stood in the street outside the theatre, too much maddened to determine on any course of action; and, ere he had recovered his self-possession, the crowd began to pour from every outlet, and filling the street, swept him away in its stream.
Then, as he heard his sister’s name, in every tone of pity, contempt, and horror, mingle with their angry exclamations, he awoke from his dream, and, bursting through the mob, made straight for Pelagia’s house.
It was fast closed; and his repeated knocks at the gate brought only, after long waiting, a surly negro face to a little wicket.
He asked eagerly and instinctively for Pelagia; of course she had not yet returned. For Wulf he was not within. And then he took his station close to the gateway, while his heart beat loud with hope and dread.
At last the Goths appeared, forcing their way through the mob in a close column. There were no litters with them. Where, then, were Pelagia and her girls? Where, too, was the hated figure of the Amal? and Wulf, and Smid? The men came on, led by Goderic and Agilmund, with folded arms, knitted brows, downcast eyes: a stern disgust, not unmingled with shame, on every countenance, told Philammon afresh of his sister’s infamy.
Goderic passed him close, and Philammon summoned up courage to ask for Wulf.... Pelagia he had not courage to name.
‘Out, Greek hound! we have seen enough of your accursed race to-day! What? are you trying to follow us in?’ And the young man’s sword flashed from its sheath so swiftly, that Philammon had but just time enough to spring back into the street, and wait there, in an agony of disappointment and anxiety, as the gates slid together again, and the house was as silent as before.
For a miserable hour he waited, while the mob thickened instead of flowing away, and the scattered groups of chatterers began to form themselves into masses, and parade the streets with shouts of ‘Down with the heathen!’ ‘Down with the idolaters!’ ‘Vengeance on all blaspheming harlots!’
At last the steady tramp of legionaries, and in the midst of the glittering lines of armed men—oh, joy!—a string of litters!