They were advancing upon Ostia! What if they arrived there before the routed army could rally, and defend themselves long enough to re-embark!....
What if--a thousand ugly possibilities began to crowd up.
'Suppose we found the gates of Ostia shut, and the Imperialists bivouacked outside ?' said Raphael half to himself.
'God would protect His own,' answered the girl; and Raphael had no heart to rob her of her hope, though he looked upon their chances of escape as growing smaller and smaller every moment.

The poor girl was weary; the mule weary also; and as they crawled along, at a pace which made it certain that the fast passing column would be at Ostia an hour before them, to join the vanguard of the pursuers, and aid them in investing the town, she had to lean again and again on Raphael's arm.

Her shoes, unfitted for so rough a journey, bad been long since torn off, and her tender feet were marking every step with blood.

Raphael knew it by her faltering gait; and remarked, too, that neither sigh nor murmur passed her lips.

But as for helping her, he could not; and began to curse the fancy which had led to eschew even sandals as unworthy the self-dependence of a Cynic.
And so they crawled along, while Raphael and the Prefect, each guessing the terrible thoughts of the other, were thankful for the darkness which hid their despairing countenances from the young girl; she, on the other hand, chatting cheerfully, almost laughingly, to her silent father.
At last the poor girl stepped on some stone more sharp than usual--and, with a sudden writhe and shriek, sank to the ground.