Then he began to think of the lilies that the little one had saved; he remembered that it was a cluster of lilies that had hidden the child from his view and made possible the escape through the city gate.
He became more and more thoughtful, and he drew back the sword.
“The bees and the lilies have requited his good deeds,” he whispered to himself. Then he was struck by the thought that the little one had once shown even him a kindness, and a deep crimson flush mounted to his brow.
“Can a Roman soldier forget to requite an accepted service?” he whispered.
He fought a short battle with himself. He thought of Herod, and of his own desire to destroy the young Peace-Prince.
“It does not become me to murder this child who has saved my life,” he said, at last.
And he bent down and laid his sword beside the child, that the fugitives on awakening should understand the danger they had escaped.
Then he saw that the child was awake. He lay and regarded the soldier with the beautiful eyes which shone like stars.
And the warrior bent a knee before the child.
“Lord, thou art the Mighty One!” said he. “Thou art the strong Conqueror! Thou art He whom the gods love! Thou art He who shall tread upon adders and scorpions!”