“And dost not thou believe with the rest?”
“No, Sebastian, I yield not so easily; I must have stronger evidences than even thy virtue.”
“Oh, speak to him then, thou!” said Sebastian to Zoë; “speak, faithful wife; speak to thy husband’s heart; for I am mistaken indeed, if those looks of thine tell me not that thou at least believest.”
Zoë covered her face with her hands, and burst into a passion of tears.
“Thou hast touched her to the quick, Sebastian,” said her husband; “knowest thou not that she is dumb?”
“I knew it not, noble Nicostratus; for when last I saw her in Asia she could speak.”
“For six years,” replied the other, with a faltering voice, “her once eloquent tongue has been paralyzed, and she has not uttered a single word.”
Sebastian was silent for a moment; then suddenly he threw out his arms, and stretched them forth, as the Christians always did in prayer, and raised his eyes to heaven; then burst forth in these words:
“O God! Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the beginning of this work is Thine; let its accomplishment be Thine alone. Put forth Thy power, for it is needed; intrust it for once to the weakest and poorest of instruments. Let me, though most unworthy, so wield the sword of Thy victorious Cross, as that the spirits of darkness may fly before it, and Thy salvation may embrace us all! Zoë, look up once more to me.”
All were hushed in silence, when Sebastian, after a moment’s silent prayer, with his right hand made over her mouth the sign of the cross, saying: “Zoë, speak; dost thou believe?”