Her lips played as if it were one of her favourite dainty jests, while her eyes looked at him blissfully. An unearthly radiance seemed to illumine her and her couch, a triumphant calm settled upon her. Theophilus lowered his sword, threw it from him, and once again retreated ashamed and confounded as on that morning in the garden by the sea.
Then the coals glowed red again. Dorothea sighed and longed for death. And her desire was granted; she was led away to the place of execution, to be beheaded.
She went to her fate with a light step, followed by the unthinking, shouting mob. Standing by the roadside she saw Theophilus, who never took his eyes off her. Their eyes met. Dorothea stood still an instant, and said cheerfully, "Theophilus, if you only knew how beautiful and splendid are my Lord's rose-gardens, where I shall soon be walking, and how sweet his apples taste which grow there, you would come along with me!"
Theophilus responded with a bitter smile: "I'll tell you what, Dorothea! Send me some of your roses and apples for a sample when you get there!"
She gave a friendly nod, and went on her way.
Theophilus followed her with his eyes until the cloud of dust, golden in the evening sunshine, which accompanied the procession, had vanished in the distance, and the street was empty and silent. Then with shrouded head he went home, and ascended with faltering steps to the house-top, from which there was a view out to the Argeus mountains. The place of execution was situated on one of the foot-hills. He could easily make out a dark cluster of humanity there, and he stretched out his longing arms in its direction. He fancied that in the light of the departing sun he could see the flash of the falling axe, and he dropped down and lay prone on the terrace. And, as a matter of fact, Dorothea's head did fall about that time.
But he had not long lain thus motionless, when a clear shining lightened the twilight, and pierced with blinding radiance beneath Theophilus's hands in which his face lay buried, and poured itself into his closed eyes like liquid gold. At the same time a rare fragrance filled the air. The young man arose as if pervaded by some new and unknown life. Before him stood a wondrous lovely boy, with golden ringlets, clad in a star-spangled garment, and with radiant naked feet, bearing a small basket in no less radiant hands. The basket was filled with the most beautiful roses, the like of which were never seen, and among the roses lay three apples of Paradise.
With an infinitely true-hearted and frank childish smile, yet not without a certain pleasant roguishness, the child said, "This is from Dorothea!" put the basket in his hands with the question, "Have you got it?" and vanished.
The basket did not vanish, and Theophilus had really got it in his hands. He found the three apples lightly marked by two tiny teeth, as was the custom among lovers in ancient times. He ate them slowly, with the blazing starry heavens above him. A mighty longing permeated him with a sweet fire, and, clasping the basket to his breast and concealing it with his mantle, he hastened down from the house-top, through the streets and into the palace of the governor, who was sitting at table endeavouring to drown his wild rage in untempered Colchian wine.
With flashing eyes, Theophilus advanced towards him, without uncovering the basket, and exclaimed before the whole company, "I declare that I am of the same faith as Dorothea, whom you have just now murdered. It is the only true faith!"