and more plain to Heraklas with every step of the procession.

"They carry the shrine of the sacred beetle of the sun," suspected
Heraklas. "I cannot meet them!"

He turned, and dashed down the first opening that presented itself.
The passage led him utterly out of his way.

"But better so," meditated Heraklas, "than that I should have met
that skin-dressed priest!"

He stopped an instant. His circuitous way had led him in sight of a
spot where he had once seen the Christian woman, Marcella, and her
daughter Potamiaena, passing on their way to martyrdom. How awful a
form of martyrdom was it that Alexandria visited upon that beautiful
Christian daughter! Gradually, hot, scalding pitch was poured over
her body, in order that she might endure the utmost torture
possible.

Heraklas looked around him at the proud, beautiful city.

"O Alexandria, Alexandria!" he whispered, "in thee is found the
blood of the saints!"

For a moment the thought of such a death, as a Christian's
punishment, overcame him. Yet he remembered that it was through
Potamiaena's martyrdom that the soldier, Basilides, was led to
become a Christian also. He refused to take a pagan oath, and was
brought to martyrdom.