“Is that all?”
Again he maintained an embarrassed silence.
“It matters not,” said Perpetua firmly. “I will my own self find out what has taken place. I shall return to Nemausus on foot, and immediately. I will deliver myself up to the magistrate and demand my mother’s release.”
“You must not go—the weather is terrible.”
“I shall—nothing can stay me. I shall go, and go alone, and go at once.”
“There is no need for such haste. It is not till to-morrow that Quincta will be put on the rack.”
“On the rack!”
“Fool that I am! I have uttered what I should have kept secret.”
“It is said. My resolve is formed. I return to Nemausus.”
“Then,” said the deacon, “I will go with thee.”