Chilo was as pale as linen, and down his legs threads of blood were flowing to the mosaic pavement of the atrium. He was conscious, however, and, falling on his knees, began to speak, with extended hands,—“Thanks to thee, lord. Thou art great and merciful.”
“Dog,” said Vinicius, “know that I forgave thee because of that Christ to whom I owe my own life.”
“O lord, I will serve Him and thee.”
“Be silent and listen. Rise! Thou wilt go and show me the house in which Lygia dwells.”
Chilo sprang up; but he was barely on his feet when he grew more deathly pale yet, and said in a failing voice,—“Lord, I am really hungry—I will go, lord, I will go! but I have not the strength. Command to give me even remnants from the plate of thy dog, and I will go.”
Vinicius commanded to give him food, a pie
