“They fear her for a witch,” Theron answered, bitterly; “as if such golden goodness could go to the making of witch-flesh. Men are fools—men are devils.”
“Be brave, be patient,” Hieronymus exhorted. “Courage and patience are the harness of a soldier of God.”
Theron made a gesture of impatience. “You have every man and woman in Syracuse for son and daughter. She is my only child. How is she?”
“Smiling like a bride,” Hieronymus replied. “Never since the heathen built these walls did any martyr face her fate more radiantly.”
“She is not harshly treated?” Theron asked, anxiously.
Hieronymus shook his head.
“Will they not let me see her?” Theron questioned anew.
“I think they will let you see her by-and-by,” Hieronymus answered. “I have entreated for you. I shall know soon.”
Theron gripped his hands tightly together. “I wish I had the King here at my mercy,” he muttered.