Then great shouts of acclaim rent the skies.
'Well fought!' cried they. 'Long live Chios of Ephesus!' resounded through the mighty building.
'Chios deserves a crown of gold,' said the Proconsul.
A perfect reaction set in, occasioned by the heroic act of the Greek. Those who were loud in protestation turned like a summer wind from south to west. All antipathy had fled. The manliness portrayed, risking his life for another, brought full reward. Even the great Saronia approved the act, and admired the man.
Chios took little heed of it all. He quietly slipped aside, and went to his beloved studio. There he always felt happy.
And now he rested, musing upon the past.
'I have not succeeded in my mission,' said he, 'but it shall be accomplished.'
Outside his gate was a poor-looking aged man, inquiring the way to the studio of the great artist.
'Yonder through the myrtle-trees it stands,' replied a passer-by; 'but do not intrude. Let him rest. He is weary from doing battle in the arena on behalf of a worn-out Christian. Do not trouble him for alms. If thou art hungry, here is a trifle to buy bread and fruit.'
'Friend, I am not a beggar; I am he for whom he fought. I must see him.'