56.  The assessor of a judge was attempting to force into a distasteful marriage a lady of high birth whose husband was but recently dead.  At a loss to escape from this high-handed treatment, she resorted to a device no less prudent than daring.  She fled to the holy table, and placed herself under the protection of God against outrage.  What, in the Name of the Trinity Itself, if I may introduce into my panegyric somewhat of the forensic style, ought to have been done, I do not say, by the great Basil, who laid down the law for us all in such matters, but by any one who, though far inferior to him, was a priest?  Ought he not to have allowed her claim, to have taken charge of, and cared for, her; to have raised his hand in defence of the kindness of God and the law which gives honour to the altar?  Ought he not to have been willing to do and suffer anything, rather than take part in any inhuman design against her, and outrage at once the holy table, and the faith in which she had taken sanctuary?  No! said the baffled judge, all ought to yield to my authority, and Christians should betray their own laws.  The suppliant whom he demanded, was at all hazards retained.  Accordingly, in his rage, he at last sent some of the magistrates to search the saint’s bedchamber, with the purpose of dishonouring him, rather than from any necessity.  What!  Search the house of a man so free from passion, whom the angels revere, at whom women do not venture even to look?  And, not content with this, he summoned him, and put him on his defence; and that, in no gentle or kindly manner, but as if he were a convict.  Upon Basil’s appearance, standing, like my Jesus, before the judgment seat of Pilate, he presided at the trial, full of wrath and pride.  Yet the thunderbolts did not fall, and the sword of God still glittered, and waited, while His bow, though bent, was restrained.  Such indeed is the custom of God.