Should he, who had been blessed of the Lord, seem to accept the blessing of idols?
But the beggar turned to another giver, and Heraklas hurried on his way.
Before he could reach home, a sacred procession came in sight.
Already Heraklas could plainly see the leopard-skin that fitted over the linen robes of the Egyptian high priest who was coming.

Twelve or sixteen inferior priests walked beside the superior one.

The high priest's lock of hair, pendant on one side of his head, became more and more plain to Heraklas with every step of the procession.
"They carry the shrine of the sacred beetle of the sun," suspected Heraklas.

"I cannot meet them!" He turned, and dashed down the first opening that presented itself.
The passage led him utterly out of his way.
"But better so," meditated Heraklas, "than that I should have met that skin-dressed priest!" He stopped an instant.

His circuitous way had led him in sight of a spot where he had once seen the Christian woman, Marcella, and her daughter Potamiaena, passing on their way to martyrdom.