He could hear the cry of Cyran; "Rise, rise, my beloved!" Again, he was like as he had been there on the field of battle.

He could not rise above his longing for revenge.

He hated the emperor whose cruel message had wrung his heart; he hated Manius, who had sought to destroy him; he despised the vile and stealthy son of Herod, who had plotted to rob him of love and life; he had begun to doubt the goodness of the great Lawgiver.
No sooner had he found an enemy than his God was become a god of vengeance.

The council, the continued failure of his prayers, the cruelty of impending misfortune, the death of Cyran had weakened the faith of Vergilius.

He had begun to founder in the deep mystery of the world.