At the pitiful sight, that very mob which a few short minutes before had hung upon the words of the bishop, their leader, now, as they watched them hobbling round the arena in the clear, low light of the dawning, burst into peals of laughter and called out that each of them should be made to lead his lion.

Quite heedless of these scoffs and taunts, they trudged on through the white sand that soon would be so red, until they came opposite to the throne.
"Salute!" roared the audience.
The bishop held up his hand and all were silent.

Then, in the thin voice with which they had become familiar, he said: "King, we who are about to die--forgive thee.

May God do likewise." Now the multitude ceased laughing, and with an impatient gesture, Agrippa motioned to the martyrs to pass on.

This they did humbly; but Anna, being old, lame and weary, could not walk so fast as her companions.