It was as if a raging sea had been arrested at full tide, each foaming wave frozen into stillness in the curve of its breaking.
What was said in that wonderful interview can scarcely be known. Few who could understand were near enough to hear.
It was rumoured afterwards that Attila himself claimed to be “the Scourge of God,” and that the Bishop with lofty meekness replied—
“If thou art the Scourge of God, chasten us as much as the Hand that holds thee permits.”
Probably this was merely a dramatic echo in words of the deed done. Whatever was said, what was felt and done cannot be denied.
Troyes was no Rome guarded by the glory of centuries and the magic of a great name. It was an unhistorical, unwalled town, such as Attila had burned and sacked by scores. The Bishop bore no great title such as he could have heard of; it was simply the man, the saint, the man of God that moved him,—moved him not merely to turn aside from an intended enterprise, but to curb his fierce hosts in the full career of plunder and slaughter; a host that was not composed only of his own people, but of the fiercer and more lawless elements of the Gothic tribes, and of Alans and Vandals. One stipulation only the leader of that savage host made; and the stipulation was almost a greater tribute to the Bishop’s character and influence than the granting of his request. Attila said he would spare the city on one condition, that the aged Bishop should leave it and accompany him and his hordes to the Rhone. Perhaps he meant it as a test of the saint’s courage and sincerity. If so, they stood the test. The old man yielded himself up to Attila, and the procession, with the grateful citizens, returned to the rescued city. Perhaps some of them felt that they owed their deliverance to a double sacrifice: the aged Bishop, who offered up his life amidst the perils of the hostile army; and the young deacon, who had laid it down pierced by their spears.
Silently Baithene re-entered the dwelling where his sister awaited him with Eleazar and Miriam.
“Has anything come of this bearding of the lion?” Eleazar asked.
“Everything,” Baithene replied. “The Bishop has given himself up to the Huns, and the city is saved.”
“In the lion’s den!” said Eleazar, bowing his head and hiding his face.