No sooner, however, had Vetranio departed than it caught the attention of Ulpius, and he advanced to the window.

What he there saw and heard was of no ordinary importance, for it at once fixed him to the spot where he stood in mute and ungovernable surprise.
While Ulpius was occupied at the window, Numerian had staggered to the side of the bed which his ill-timed severity had made vacant, perhaps for ever.

The power of action, the capacity to go forth and seek his child himself, was entirely suspended in the agony of her loss, as the miserable man fell on his knees, and in the anguish of his heart endeavoured to find solace in prayer.

In the positions they severally occupied the servant and the master long remained--the betrayer watching at the window, the betrayed mourning at his lost daughter's bed--both alike silent, both alike unconscious of the lapse of time.
At length, apparently unaware at first that he was not alone in the room, Numerian spoke.

In his low, broken, tremulous accents, none of his adherents would have recognised the voice of the eloquent preacher--the bold chastiser of the vices of the Church.