'She is my mother, killed by one of the Ephesian mob. Wouldst thou also rob me of her dead body?'
'Cease thy prating, fool! Men's mothers are not murdered in this way. There is foul play. Thou shalt answer for this. Ho there, men!' calling on those outside. 'Take this murderer away. Take him to the Temple. I shall be there shortly, and will see to this.'
'Hands away!' cried Chios. 'I am not my mother's murderer.'
'Seize him!' cried Acratus. 'Bring him forth!' and they dragged him from his mother's side to without the studio, where by this time many Ephesians had gathered, and when they saw him, they cried:
'Chios the Christian! Down with him!'
The fierce mob closed in, and the Romans cared not nor hindered—closed in around him till he was trampled under their feet, until one, perhaps more malignant than the rest, plunged a dagger in the bosom of the half-dead man. And Chios lifted up his feeble voice to heaven, crying:
'My God! my God! Saronia!'
The multitude laughed and jeered, and the sun shone down upon the fated city.
'Take him up, men, and carry him within. Better he be out of sight.'
And they laid him on the marble floor at the feet of his mother, Myrtile of Delos.