"Christ too prayed a human prayer for a miracle: Father, let this cup pass from me!" he muttered, continuing upon his way.
With eyes on the ground he strode along the narrow walk, skirting the Tiber, in whose turbid waves no stars were reflected. And scarce consciously he repeated to himself:
"As like as a man and his own phantom,—his own phantom."
He passed the bridge and entered the mausoleum of the Flavian emperor. Rapidly he ascended to his own chamber.
The candle was burning low.
Up and down he paced in the endeavour to order his thoughts. But no order would come into the chaotic confusion of his mind.
What was the dominion of Rome to him now?
What the dominion of the Universe?
What devil in human shape had counselled the act in the seeds of which slumbered his own destruction?
The flame of the dying candle flickered and grew dim.