Lastly, a Meletian Bishop told, with thrilling and tragic details, the story of the cruel murder of Arsenius.
"Here is the very hand of the murdered man," he concluded, producing and opening the famous box. A cry of well-feigned horror burst from the Arians.
"Did any of you know Arsenius?" asked Athanasius calmly. Several rose to their feet. "Then, behold my witness," said the Patriarch, signing to a priest who stood near the door.
A man was brought in whose face and figure were hidden in a long cloak, which Athanasius drew slowly away. It was Arsenius himself who stood before them!
"Here is one hand," continued the Patriarch, drawing it out from the cloak, "and here is the other. I presume that to no man God has given more. Perhaps those who maintain that that severed hand is the hand of Arsenius can show us where it was affixed."
There was a moment of general confusion, during which the Meletian who had so graphically told the story of Arsenius' murder concluded that prudence was the better part of valor and hastily disappeared from the assembly. But the Arians were never at a loss. It was by magic, they declared, that Athanasius had caused the dead man to appear in their midst.
It was useless to continue the argument against such persistent
injustice. Athanasius left the Council abruptly and set out for
Constantinople to place himself, a stern and accusing figure, in the
Emperor's way as he rode out from his palace.
Constantine, recognizing who it was, tried to pass in silence, but
Athanasius stood firm.
"The Lord judge between me and you," he said solemnly, "if you take the part of my enemies against me."
The Emperor halted. "What do you wish?" he asked.