To her Judah sprang--his steps were long and swift, almost a winged flight--"Mother, mother!" he shouted.

She stretched her hands towards him; but when almost touching them he was seized and forced aside.

Then he heard some one say, speaking loudly, "That is he!" Judah looked, and saw--Messala.
"What, the assassin--that ?" said a tall man, in legionary armor of beautiful finish.

"Why, he is but a boy." "Gods!" replied Messala, not forgetting his drawl.

"A new philosophy! What would Seneca say to the proposition that a man must be old before he can hate enough to kill?
You have him; and that is his mother; yonder his sister.