She knelt beside Vergilius and touched his pale face with her hands.

Then she called to him: "Rise, O my beloved! Rise quickly! He will slay you!" "Cyran!" he whispered.
Antipater had gained his feet and now ran to glut his anger.

Cyran rose upon her knees and put her beautiful body between the steel and him she loved.

The sword seemed to spring at her bosom.

She seized it, clinging as if it were a thing she prized.