The whole nature of the man--moral, intellectual, physical--seemed fatally and completely changed.
'She was innocent, she was innocent!' he whispered to himself.

'And even had she been guilty, was it for me to drive her from my doors! My part, like my Redeemer's, was to teach repentance, and to show mercy! Accursed be the pride and anger that drove justice and patience from my heart, when I beheld her, as I thought, submitting herself without a struggle or a cry, to my dishonour, and hers! Could I not have imagined her terror, could I not have remembered her purity?
Alas, my beloved, if I myself have been the dupe of the wicked, what marvel is it that you should have been betrayed as well! And I have driven you from me, you, from whose mouth no word of anger ever dropped! I have thrust you from my bosom, you, who were the adornment of my age! My death approaches, and you will not be by to pardon my heavy offence, to close my weary eyes, to mourn by my solitary tomb! God--oh God! If I am left thus lonely on the earth, thou hast punished me beyond what I can bear!' He paused--his emotions for the instant bereft him of speech.

After an interval, he muttered to himself in a low, moaning voice--'I called her harlot! My pure, innocent child! I called her harlot--I called her harlot!' In a paroxysm of despair, he started up and looked distractedly around him.

Ulpius still stood motionless at the window.

At the sight of the ruthless Pagan he trembled in every limb.