A TALE OF • Rome A STORY BY R1XP0RD J. RISC0L1 Chapter I — In the Catacombs. Chapter II — A Festival Day in Rome. Chapter III — The Prison — The Rescue. Chapter IV — In Cesar’s Garden. Chapter V — The Warning. Chapter VI — In the Home oe Marcus — The Temptation. Chapter VII — The Trial. NEW ORLEANS PHILIPPE’S PRINTERY, 614-616 ST. LOUIS STREET, lOOO ' This volume is affectionately dedicated to my dear Aunt Suzette, who has so well and so nobly filled the part of mother. A TALE OF PAGAN ROME. CHAPTER I. IN THE CATACOMBS. Deep down in the subterranean caverns of the Catacombs, amid the dreary solitude of its winding passages and lugubrious crypts, a band of staunch Christians, each holding a lighted taper, knelt on the cold clammy stones to receive a blessing from one of the leaders of their company, a venerable patriarch. The old man, with uplifted arms stretching over the multitude, blessed them with the sacred sign of the cross — that cross for which they were ready to lay down their lives. The candles flickered and flared weiridly in the damp air, fanned by the ghosts of the wind which penetrated through the cracks in the rocks, of this gloomy abode, and grim shadows fell athwart the group of men, women and children gathered there, whilst their untrained voices rose solemnly in a plaintive chant that echoed and re-echoed through the hollows of the place. One of their number arose, a boy of about fourteen or fif- teen, of graceful limb and angelic countenance, a face which reflected his pure young soul, unpolluted by the corruption of Rome. His voice sounded like music as he addressed the old man. u Father ,’ 7 he said : u we have one amongst us this even- ing who wishes to embrace the faith of Christ . 77 “ Praise be to the good God, another soul rescued from Kero and the darkness of paganism, another hand to strengthen us on our way . 77 As the old man spoke, he placed his wrinkled, withered hand gently on the boy’s fair head, and asked : u where is the one of whom you speak, my child f 77 4 No one had noticed a small form crouched a little distance from the group, near the wall, hidden in a dark cloak that com- pletely envelopped the body, leaving naught but the face visible. The old man had hardly ceased speaking, when the tremulous voice of a girl in silvery accents like the notes of a fledgelliug bird, answered : “ I am here, Father ; I wish to be baptized to- night.’’ Everyone turned in astonishment as the cloak fell from the girl, and revealed a vision of loveliness, a tiny blonde, whose curls rippled like waves around her chaste figure, and whose eyes smiled with anxious joy. u What ! ” all exclaimed as they beheld her, “ what,” were the words of astonishment that fell from their lips with one voice, “’tis Lydia, the daughter of the brave Roman General Marcus Vitellus.” The girl’s dress contrasted strangely with the plain coarse garb of the Christians, as she stood before them clad in some rich stuff of bright color, and a gold necklace was fastened around her white neck, the only jewel that adorned her person. u Yes,” Lydia replied; “no one at the palace knows I am here. I stole away with a faithful slave, it is Yincinnius who converted me and brought me here,” she said, pointing to the boy who had spoken to the patriarch. Then she related how she had seen Yincinnius one day on the street, that she had carelessly let some flowers fall, which he ran to return to her ; they had spoken, children that they were ? a friendship grew between them, they met secretly, for it was forbidden to hold intercourse with the Christians without reason, and Yincinnius explained to her the religion of Christ, finally inducing her to be converted to the true faith. Yincinnius had triumphed, Lydia was now here to embrace the faith of the true God, and she knelt humbly on the cold stones, whilst the old man baptized her with the sacred sign of the cross, and another stray sheep was received into the fold of the Heavenly Shep- herd. The ceremony was over, all hastened silently away, hiding 5 in the shadows and dispersing to their secret hiding places, v leaving the catacombs solitary and dark with the sanctified dust of martyrs, but over which the smile of God rested like a dove of peace. Lydia and the slave went out into the night, followed by Vincinnius, trembling with the excitement of his joy. Lydia turned and smiled. “ I thank thee, friend, for all thou hast done for me,” and her face lit up with a sweet holy light as she spoke, the divine grace of God already shining from her soul regenerated in the living waters of baptism. “But thou wilt return tomorrow?” eagerly questioned Vincinnius. “ I hope so,” she gently replied. “But thou must come back,” Vincinnius said. “If they know in Rome that thou art a Christian, the people will go wild, and thy father’s life will be in danger. Thou must come back to us to receive strength and courage, to eat the Bread of Life. We must save thy father’s soul and pray for him.” “ Then I will promise,” she sweetly said. “ To morrow I will be at the catacombs at the hour the Christians meet.” Vincinnius clasped her hand so soft and white, as it rested in his palm, each felt a thrill of ecstacy run through their veins — it was love, a bond of union between two pure souls, a marriage of spiritual birth, a holy, innocent love — not the sordid passion of Rome’s voluptuaries. Their hands met and fell, and in that touch their souls reached out to each other like two lights flash- ing through the dark, each mingling with the other and flowing into one bright luminous whole. Lydia whispered “farewell until to-morrow,” and her girlish voice died on the still air, as she disappeared with her slave into the falling darkness and was soon lost from sight. Vincinnius stood watching her long, until a brother Christian roused him from his reverie and joining him, they too went on their way. Lydia had gone back to the gayeties and temptations of a Roman court, and Vincinnius to the austerities and solitude of a Christian’s secret home. 6 ' A solitary star rested like a diamond on the soft violet breast of Night, and a mellow moon was bursting from a cloud, shooting forth brilliant darts of light from her crystal mouth, as they fell over the shadows, and spangled them with patches of frosty whiteness. Lydia hastened homewards, but did not see a man’s form as she passed rapidly on, nor did she notice him watch her closely as she emerged into the moonlight, which suddenly framed her in a haze of brightness, and he sighed as he gazed on her, but then frowned as if in anger and then went his way. It was Decimus Antonius, her father’s friend, to whom he had promised her hand. He had seen her coming from the catacombs, heard her talking to Yincinnius would he keep her secret ? CHAPTER II. A FESTIVAL DAY IN ROME. It was a festival day in Rome. Her streets were thronged with gay crowds of pleasure-seekers, going and coming from the baths before the procession would pass, and many a Roman lady’s litter was surrounded by groups of soldiers or princes high in rank, stopping to pay court to some favored beauty. Many windows were draped with rich tapestries of beautiful designs and rich hues, which hung low over the porticos or bal- conies, whilst some houses (those of the richer class), were also decorated with flowers, whose strong odors perfumed the atmos. phere sickeningly, and penetrated everywhere. Roman ladies and young girls were seated at the windows, throwing roses idly away, or toying with them, some tossing them playfully to youths who passed on the street below. Slaves fanned them or sang to them, as they reclined gracefully on couches, with no care of the morrow, living only for the present, the pleasures of the hour. 7 Among the carried litters, one was stopped by its occupant, a young girl, who seemed to be waiting for some one, as she scanned the motely crowd, and many women passing to and fro decked in jewels and paint, bowed or wave hands to her. Cox- combs suffered themselves also to be carried by their slaves to the baths, and all craned their necks to gaze at this girl, who was deemed to be the future beauty of Eome, as they smiled at her or shook their rose-crowned heads in admiration of her charms. But she heeded them not, it was not admiration she sought, she was waiting for some one. Soldiers, singing girls, children, all were there, with no thought but the enjoy- ment of the senses, no desire but pleasure. She turned her gaze towards the Tiber, whose yellow, flowing waters presented a scene of animation. Barges filled with rollicking crowds of merry-makers floated listlessly on the lambent waves, which licked the sides of the boats, and joined in unison to the music that palpitated, fell and died in echoes over the waters. The sun from the blue skies above shone down on the scene and set the Tiber, the streets, palaces and dwellings aflame in a glory of dazzling light. Disappointed, the girl ordered her slaves to carry her on- wards. But it was too late, the royal guards were there, bring- ing the crowds to order, and clearing the way for the coming parade. The procession drew near ; little girls and boys, whose rosy limbs were scantily clad, headed the parade, and scattered roses on their path ; then, the golden idols guarded by the high-priests of the temples, were carried in great triumph and solemnity by swarthy, strongly-built slaves, whose muscles were strained beneath the ponderous weight of these barbaric symbols, and as they passed the people bowed low in reverence, all save the girl who looked placidly but unconcernedly upon the spectacle. The soldiers followed next, magnificent warriors whose armor shone brightly as silver, as it shook on their breast, whilst their fiery horses pranced to the sounds of martial music. Marcus Vitellus passed, and as he went by, the girl in the litter drew back the 8 curtain, for Lydia did not wish her father to know that she was there, when she should have been at home. Then, the noble, the mighty Caesar came — Nero, the blood- thirsty, cruel tyrant was borne along in a magnificent golden chariot, seated on a high throne from which his obese body waddled as the equipage jolted over the rough road way. Nero was happy. The proud cynosure of all eyes, the adored, the admired master of Borne was out in public, for all to feast their eyes on his sacred person. His puffed cheeks puckered into a sensual smile, and his watery eyes rolled in his laurel- wreathed head, which swayed unsteadily from side to side, for wine had already touched his brain ; and there he sat waving to a favored few with his royal hand, which to day might fondle, and to- morrow strike a blow. The spectacle had passed, the crowds ran hither and thither, cheering Nero on his way. At last Lydia espies Yincinnins in the distance, a word from her slave and he is at her side. Lydia motions her slaves to stand aside, cautioning them to silence, for it is dangerous for her to hold converse publicly with a Christian almost before the face of Nero. u O, Yincin- nius,” she whispers ; u make haste, we are watched, this is dan- gerous,” Lydia said as he approached her. u I fear naught for myself,” he replied ; u it is thee alone for whom I tremble. Thou didst not come last night, thou hast broken thy promise, what kept thee away ! ” . u Hush, speak lower,” she answers, u some one may hear us. I could not come,” she continues. “ I was watched, my father suspects something. If Nero knew I was a Christian, my father’s head might answer for it,” she replied with tears in her eyes. u True, true,” Yincinnius answered. They had hardly ceased speaking, when a young man, a soldier, tall and robust, handsome, but on whose face was written a life of dissipation and vice, approached them. Yincinnius well knew this voluptuary of Borne by reputation, for his ban quets, rather orgies, vied with those of Caesar himself, and he 9 shuddered as he saw him take Lydia’s hand. In a rollicking, familiar manner, he addressed Lydia thus : u Ha, my sweet Lydia, out for an airing, thy beauty grows daily, why wast thou not at the palace to witness the parade ? Thou hast been de- layed, but ah, I see, thou hast a little friend with thee. I saw thee whispering to him, who is this boy, tell me. I should know all thy secrets.” And stooping, he bent low over Lydia, and tried to kiss her. Yincinnius saw the soldier’s reeling form, for wine had heated him, and boiling with rage as Lydia, screaming, commanded him to desist and begone, he flung himself on the man and pushed him forcibly away, crying out: “Away, thou drunken brute ! ” Antonius (for it was he), in moving backward from the force of Yincinnius’ attack, stumbled, and fell sprawling on the ground, amid the loud jeers and laughs of the crowd. Antonius raised his dagger, but Lydia cried: u Coward, to hurt a defenceless boy ! ” Stung with rage from his fall, and furious at the thought of being not only thwarted but disgraced and humiliated by a boy, before everyone on the public streets, Antonius called some guards and ordered Yincinnius bound hand and foot, and car- ried to prison. As Yincinnius was being dragged off, Antonius struck him with his bare fist on the forehead, and the boy’s head fell back and he knew no more. The last Yincinnius had seen of Lydia, was her fainting form borne away by her slaves. Antonius hurried off, amid the cries of the infuriated people. “ For shame,” they cried ; u fie on thee, Antonius, thou art not a man!— the villain! — the coward!” Such sounds as these greeted his ear, but he heeded them not and strutted off with libertine friends like himself, still holding his side, and limping on his way, for his fall had been a heavy one. Thus the Festival day in Rome had come and gone, weaving a web of fate around the lives of Lydia and Yincinnius, 10 CHAPTER III. IN PRISON — THE RESCUE. Vincinnius awoke. He knew not where he was, for the place was cold and dark, a green slimy dampness clung to the walls, on which lizards and insects crawled, and a horrible stench as of decaying bodies, impregnated the atmosphere therein and sickened him, until he thought he would faint and die. This surely could not be the Catacombs which he knew so well. As he lay there thinking and wondering, of a sudden his memory rushed back to his brain, and then he recollected all the street parade, his defense of Lydia, the attack on Marcus, and his imprisonment. As he thought of the exciting scenes he had passed through, he felt he could kill Antonius were he near him, but his anger softened, as he seemed to hear a voice whis- pering to him : u Peace, be still, vengeance is mine, love your enemies, do good to those that persecute you.” Then he wept, for he was but a child, there alone and friendless, but he grew quieter as he prayed silently for strength in the time of trial and danger, and he knew that Christ, the great God and Saviour of mankind, would not abandon him, even though his enemies came to torture his body, they could not attack his immortal soul. The place was so dark that it frightened him, he who was so brave on the public streets of Rome, now trembled in the darkness. He feared not death, but he longed for light, just a little light, a little ray from the orb of day to soften the ugly shadows around, and to comfort his weary heart. Vincinnius knew not how long he had lain here. Was it a day, a week or months S After he had been gagged and bound, he had felt a blow on his forehead, he saw the uplifted hand of Antonius descend on him, he heard Lydia cry out in pain, he saw her borne away insensible — then all was dark, all was silent, and he knew no more until he awoke in this horrible dungeon. He could but faintly discern objects by the uncertain light 11 which began to glimmer ever so faintly about, like the first uncertain rays of dawn penetrating the midnight darkness of a lonesome forest, adding a ghostliness where it fell, and pictur- ing fantastic shapes out of the semi-luminous gloom. The light that came unbidden to this hole seemed to fall from a small barred opening high up in the wall, through which hardly a breath of air from Nature’s pure woods or fields could enter, or a single beam of sunshine could come from the blue skies forever shut out from his sight. Hark! what was that? Strange noises filled the air — groans — human moans from pitiable sufferers like himself in this gloomy cell, left to rot and die, like carrion on the desolate plains. Yincinnius shivered with horror, he had heard of the atrocities of roman prisons, he knew how Christian martyrs were tortured there, but though prepared as he was to face danger and death, these things made him shudder with agony, as the ter- rifying cries grew louder, some begging for mercy, some praying to die, and others cursing God and their fate. Were these the wails of souls sent to torment him, was he lost, was this hell in which he must suffer forever? No. It could not be ; this was too real, he lived, he breathed, he felt, he saw, he was a prisoner left to his fate in this strange, awful abode, a human grave. The light grew a little brighter, and he could trace human forms on the floor, outlined like grim monsters in the uncertain shadows, here an arm, there a leg, and there a face, features most horrible to look upon, that froze his soul with unknown dread. There were some half -nude, others were covered with loathsome sores that spread like tatoo marks over their filthy, ragged bodies, and still others lay quite still, nothing but skin and bones, skeletons, lying there putrifying in decay. His hand moved and as it wandered on the cold floor, it struck something which he took up in his fingers, but as he raised it up to his eyes, he held in his grasp something hard and white — it was a human bone. With a cry he threw the horrible thing away, and he heard it fall to the ground with a dull thud. He would 12 go mad if he remained in this place of horrors, and he tossed in pain, in anxiety and dread on the prison floor, crying out : u O God, have mercy on me, give me strength to bear this cross.” Would he be killed or tortured ? These thoughts chased each other one after the other through his distracted brain, but these things were as nothing compared to what suddenly flashed upon him, and made him shake with a fear that would haunt him here like an uncanny thing to taunt and mock him night and day. Of a sudden, he remembered that the Patriarch in the cata- combs had commissioned him to take a letter to the Christian brethren in hiding outside of the City of Borne. This letter gave the brethren knowledge of their secret homes, where they lived when not assembled in the catacombs, and told of a time appointed for them to meet in a body in the catacombs to make plans for their future safety, for they were daily being perse- cuted. They needed recruits to fill their thinning ranks. He should not have stopped to talk to Lydia, for then he would have been on his way to fulfill the mission entrusted to him. He accused himself of weakness and treachery, and was sorely tried with tormenting thoughts. He must hide the letter and save his brethren some way. He tried to rise, but fell back on the stones, for his feet were chained to the floor. He was pow- erless to move, defenceless and handicapped. Thank God ! his hands were free. He eagerly thrust his hands within the folds of his dress, as his nervous fingers felt for the letter hidden in his breast. He could not find it ; they had taken it from him perchance, he had been searched and robbed, his brethren would perish, their secrets were known. His blood froze as he thought how he had unconsciously betrayed his friends. He felt again, his hand wandered beneath his dress and touched a hard sub- stance, whilst his eager fingers caught something and he wildly seized the letter almost crumpled to a knot. It was lucky that it had slipped there and when they had searched him, nothing had been found. His secret was yet safe, and he silently thanked his Maker, 13 as a wave of relief spread over his troubled spirit, soothing the pain and anxiety that had turned his heart into a seething caul- dron of doubts and fears. As he lay tossing on the floor, a welcome light from somewhere suddenly drifted like a narrow stream over the dark prison. Nearer it came, broadening and deepening, shifting here and there, flitting from place to place, lighting the grim walls, then falling downwards, now on this side and then on the other. Still nearer came the light, like an animal searching for its prey. It lingered over the floor a brief moment, but that moment was long enough to reveal to Vincin- nius the pain-dented, the distracted and distorted features of his fellow-prisoners, as the rays outlined every line on their faces, enlarging them and shining on them in mockery, as though rejoicing over their hideousness. At last a soldier accompanied by guards appeared on the scene. A guard let the lighted torch drop its beams over every face until it fell upon Vincinnius, as he felt its hot rays burn his cheek. “ Ah ! hast thou found him 1 ” the soldier asked of the guard. u ’Tis he,” answered the guard, kicking Vincinnius with his foot to draw his attention, as though he were a dog on the street. “Wake up, boy,” the soldier churlishly said, while his coarse, brutal voice grated on the ear of Vincinnius like the hooting of an owl. 66 Get up,” he continued, “ or by Jupiter, I will split thee with my sword.” Thus speaking, he prodded him with a spear he carried. Vincinnius gazed intently at the speaker, and he at once recognized the dissipated features of Antonius, hardened still more, it seemed to him. Vincinnius unconsciously shuddered as he gazed on this brute’s form in man’s garb, and wondered what revenge was in store for him. He would die bravely at all events, and as the guard loosened his shackled feet and pulled him roughly up, he reeled with giddiness from weakness and long suffering. 14 u Art thou drunk, fool, thou lazy, impudent Christian pup 1 Dost thou not remember me % 77 angrily cried Antonius. Vincinnius scorned to answer his impudence, but held his tongue, as he tried to hide the crumpled letter he held in his hand, whilst Antonius gloated over him with his bloodshot eyes. “ Ha ! Thou hast something, a letter in thy hand ? me- thought they told me nothing was found on thy person ? was 7 t not so *? 77 he asked of the guard. “ I swear it, 7 ’ answered the guard. u 7 Tis a Christian trick- sorcery that kept it away from us . 77 “ Give me the letter, Vincinnius ; thou did 7 st hide it well, but now I shall have it, by all the gods ! 77 exultantingly spoke Antonius. u Never ! No, never shall I give it to thee, Decimus Anto- nius, as long as there is breath in my body. I fear thee not, nor Caesar ! 77 proudly and defiantly answered Vincinnius, as he thrust the paper back into the folds of his dress, and held one hand over his chest in defence of his sacred secret. “ Soho ! Thou would 7 st defy me ? Fool, dost thou not know my power ? We shall see if I will not conquer thee. Seize him, guards ! 77 shouted Antonius. The guards approached, but Vincinnius quailed not before them, nor did he move an inch from where he stood, with flash- ing eye, that spit fire into the souls of the men around him. They tugged fiercely at his arm, striving to loosen the hold he had on the letter, but vain were their efforts, for his strength had grown as that of rock, as he prayed for help, to Him who could strike those before him with the lightening of his wrath. Vincinnius felt the hour of deadly peril was nigh, and he feared nothing, determined to die preserving his trust to the end. “He is brave, by Juno, what a soldier he would make! 77 said Antonius, as he watched the men. “ He will not give in f then open the pit, 77 commanded Antonius. A guard stepped aside, and a little distance off, opened a trap door in the floor of the prison. The guards dragged Vincinnius to the spot, as his legs scraped over the rough stones that tore 15 the tender flesh at each step. They placed him near the dark hole and bade him look down. Yincinnius heard the furious rush of waters, and as he gazed he saw the black, filthy current of the Tiber filled with refuse from the sewers of the city flow- ing swiftly on, ever onward, ready to carry its freight away with no one to hear or know of its victims’ fate again. God, he thought. , What a death ! He shivered and prayed for strength. He had lived and hoped to die a martyr, proud of his sacrifice of life for Christ, but to meet death so horrible, perhaps to have his secret torn from him, and be a traitor in his brethren’s eyes, made him sick with a gnawing fear that griped at his heart like a serpent’s tooth sucking his breath away. Would he give up ? A terrible struggle raged within his soul, and through the minutes of agony he saw the form of Lydia, her face smiling, like a beacon light of hope to cheer him on his way. The struggle went on. The men closed on him. Again, and again, their hot breath swept over his face, their hands crushed his body, like the wind and rain beating and bruising the twig of a tree, and their weight was pushing him downward. They swayed from side to side like waves of an angry sea, they pulled him across the pit, his legs dangled over the abyss and his feet felt the cold water’s soft touch. The rush of the water sounded in deafening roar and seemed to grow louder and louder. His heart sickened as he gazed deep down into the murky abyss below, but with a renewed effort of superhuman strength, he gave one mighty spring backward, which threw the men off from him, and at' the same minute he frantically snatched the letter from his bosom. No time to loose, he tore it madly, and threw it into the hole, watching it carried forever away from the sight of man. He had triumphed — his secret was safe. Antonius howled with rage, and cursed and swore, as he shouted : u Throw the dog into the pit ! he shall baffle me no more ! ” * The guards once more seized him, and to make sure, one 16 grabbed him by the throat. He felt a hand around him, the fingers pressed tighter over his throat, they stiffled him, he could not breathe; another squeeze and he would be dead, when a sonorous voice sounded like thunder through the prison silence. “ Stop, I command thee, Decimus Antonius ! Belease the prisoner ! ” rang clearly through the place. The hands loosened on his throat, and he fell limp and well-nigh lifeless, a part of his body hanging over the pit, and his head on the cold floor. Marcus Vitellus strode angrily up to Antonius. “ Coward ! ” he cried, “ Insolent wretch ! ” he shouted, “ By the gods, thou shalt answer for this and my daughter’s insult before Hero and the whole court of Borne. “ Thou, my quondam friend, hypo- crite and seducer, I would smite thee, now, but I fight like men, and not dogs ! ” angrily hissed Marcus to Antonius, who quailed pale and trembling at his threats. “ Come, come, Marcus, why this fit of rage ? If I have of- fended thee, I — ” cringingly spoke Antonius. u Ho. Hot a word, thou foul-mouthed smiling leper,” an- swered Marcus. Antonius now was angry, and replied with an oath. u By Jove, I swear Marcus, I shall go hence straight to Hero, and tell him thou hast defied his authority.” “ Go, quick to thy master, and tell him I fear neither thee nor him,” answered Marcus defiantly. “We will see,” said Antonius, as with a smile of hate, he drew his cloak around him, and with the guards left the prison. Marcus carried Vincinnius in his own arms out of the prison, and had him brought to his very home. Thus was Vincinnius led out of darkness and death into light and life. 17 CHAPTER IV. IN C/ESAR’S GARDEN. It was noon, Caesar was walking in his garden, reading a poem of his own composition, and as he turns, a slave prostrates himself before him and addresses him: “O most gracious Caesar,” he begins, when the emperor, with a scowl on his pudgy face cries out: “Wretch, how durst thou interrupt me when I am reading ? I have lost the words for the next stanza.” And thus speaking he stamps his foot furiously on the ground. The slave trembles before' his master, but Caesar still angry, says: “Well, fool, continue.” “ The noble Antonius, the friend of the most august Caesar, would hold speech with him,” the slave humbly said. “Aha! The gods be praised. He will relieve my gloom. Make haste and bid the noble Antonius enter.” Thus spoke Caesar, impatiently kicking the slave before him, who again bows low, almost bending his body in two and withdraws, backing slowly out of his presence whilst Caesar resumes his reading. Antonius enters the garden, where luxurious plants are scattered around, where rare flowers spread their bloom in prolific splendor, covering the ground with leaves and petals of varied hue that form a rich carpet, and stately, well trained trees make a shady grove, interspersed with sparkling fountains, and marble statues of gods and goddesses. Caesar, hearing footsteps, turns with a smile to greet him. “Never was the brave Antonius more welcome,” says Caesar. “ Thou hast come in time to supply me with lines for my next verse.” “Ave! Most noble Caesar,” replies Antonius. “I would have speech with thee of great import to thyself. Are we alone ? ” inquired Antonius. 18 u Alone, with only the birds and flowers for company / 7 re- plied Caesar. “ 7 Tis well. For I have much fear that a friend would prove false to thy sacred majesty , 77 cunningly said Antonius. “ What ? 77 angrily cries Caesar. u Is this the news thou dost bring me from without ? 77 u I would t 7 were not so , 77 sadly replies Antonius, scanning Caesar’s countenance as though he would read an answer there. u Ye gods ! 77 answers Caesar. u Have a care, Antonius, how thou speakest, for ill-humor dost sit upon my brow . 77 Antonius winced, for he knew Caesar’s temper well, and he was a man of many whims, and but recently Antonius had incurred Caesar’s displeasure by some trivial offense. He had sounded him, and would now be on his guard, carefully measur- ing the ground as he went along. “Know then, most mighty Caesar , 77 continued Antonius pompously, though he was galled by Caesar’s reproach, u one of thy most trusted and bravest generals in Rome has spurned thy commands.” Caesar grew livid with rage. u His name ! quick, tell me ! Almighty Jove ! I swear he will answer to me for this ! 77 crossly whined Caesar. “I would not betray a friend,” hypocritically answered Antonius in pretended scorn that he was not playing the part of a traitor. u Thou must tell me ! 77 commanded Caesar. u I command thee, speak ! 77 Antonius was silent, and gazed at Caesar blandly, half smiling at his impetuousness and anxiety. “Wouldst thou too defy me, Antonius!” Caesar angrily cried. “ Tell me all, I say, or thy life will be in danger ! 77 the emperor threatened. Antonins trembled before Caesar’s threats, and dared not incur his wrath again. He had won his point, and had gained Caesar’s sympathy. Antonius, in slow, measured words thus spoke : u I came to 19 warn thee, great Caesar, but since thou commandesfc me to speak, I will. Yesterday, after the parade in honor of Venus had passed on the street, I addressed Lydia, the daughter of Marcus Vitellus, of whose bravery and friendship thou hast had much proof. As I spoke, a youth of that hated and mangy Christian sect, who impudently held converse with this girl publicly, attacked me, throwing me so violently forward that I slipped and fell to the ground. I had him bound and sent to the dungeon, and learning that he had letters of importance to others of his tribe outside of Rome, he was searched by the guards at my command. He resisted violently and threw the letter before our very eyes into the pit, which I had opened to frighten him. I was about to have his accursed body thrown into the hole, when Marcus Vitellus, wild with rage, rushes to the prison, where, insulting me, defiest thy power and carries the boy home with him.” u Ye gods ! This is marvelous. The impudent boy ! but by Jove, he was brave ; and he thwarted thee, and did throw thee on the public street, eh Antonius ? ” Caesar’s sides shook with laughter, whilst Antonius boiled with shame and anger to be made sport of by Caesar. Antonius carefully controlled his temper and continued : u But ’tis not all, most gracious Caesar 5 it is not for my injuries that I seek revenge, it is for thy welfare I speak.” u How now, Antonius, ’tis not all thou dost bore me f what more stuff hast thou to weary me with ? ” Caesar pettishly asked. “ Listen, Caesar,” Antonius whispered ; “ ’tis rumored that Marcus’ daughter doth visit the Christians in the catacombs ; their strength is growing daily, they wax insolent, they conspire against thy life, and — “ Hold ! ” shreiked Caesar in a fury. u Enough ! I hate these Christians, Antonius, thou knowest well, but,” hotly cried Caesar, “thou hast gone too far. I believe not thy story of Marcus, thou liest, I say. Marcus is the bravest general in all Rome, and has he not promised thee Lydia’s hand in marriage ! said Caesar. 20 “ He has, most noble Caesar,” answered Antonius. “ But he would have some excuse to break his word with me; and then, he harbors this Christian boy in his very home, as one of his own.” Antonius knew well how to rouse Caesar’s passions, and he had succeeded. “This is monstruous, and in defiance of my orders, to be- friend this Christian thus ! ” Caesar said, as his face grew hard and stern. “ There is danger, Caesar ; look to it, I warn thee. If thou dost not act in time, and make an example of Marcus, thou wilt be undone. Think of it ! Marcus, one so near thy throne, he, so trusted, to play thee false ! ” Antonius turned to go. “Stay, most worthy Antonius! ” commanded Caesar. “Thou most loyal friend, what wouldst thou have me do f ” “ To-morrow have a public trial,” answered Antonius in a husky voice. “ Summon Marcus, his daughter and the Chris- tian before thee. Offer freedom to the boy if he abjures his faith and offers incense to the gods. Reward him, bribe him • watch the effect on Marcus, watch still more,” he whispers to Caesar, “ watch, I tell thee, Lydia. I tell thee, Caesar, she loves the Christian boy. I suspect strongly she has already embraced his faith, and as for Marcus — ” “ Ah, I see thou lovest the girl, thou wouldst have her, eh ? And so thou shalt ! ” promised Caesar. “ Beware of the Christians, most noble Caesar ! ” again warned Antonius. “ Enough ! ” cried out Caesar foaming at the mouth in rage, for his passions were now roused to their pitch. “ Order the Christians to be hounded down in the catacombs where they meet to-night, and slaughter them all ! ” “Thy word is law, most mighty Caesar,” answered Anto- nius, as reverently on bended knee he kissed the hem of Caesar’s garment. “ Rise, Antonius,” Caesar said ; “ do my bidding, and thou shalt be rewarded.” Antonius went forth on his deadly work, while Caesar an- grily paced up and down his garden. 21 CHAPTER V. THE WARNING. It is evening. The streets of Eome are crowded with the usual throng of pleasure-seekers, and none noticed Lydia as she hurries, thickly veiled and cloaked, on her way. The crim- son hues of sunset incarnadine the sky as if with blood, and shed a pink glow over the city, that deepens from rose color to carmine, and fades from red to salmon, which lingers like a gentle touch over everything, before the purple shadows gather from the mountains in the distance and encircle Rome in the dark mantle of night, Lydia is hastening to the catacombs to tell the Father there what has happened to Yincinnius. She hurries along through the crowds, recognizing many but none guessing her identity, or caring to fathom her intentions. Lydia turns into a narrow street, where all is secluded and silent, when to her horror, she perceives Antonius busily con- versing with a group of his followers, all soldiers like himself, evidently receiving orders from their leader. She pauses, her courage fails her for a minute, but she must pass him, so she quickly walks on almost in a run, when her feet almost give way beneath her, as these words float to ear as she passes: “ Yes, to-night,” one of the soldiers says, u at the appointed hour we will wait near the catacombs, and as they emerge, we will slay them all.” She turns involuntarily to look at the speaker, and with horror she beholds Antonius paying money to his hirelings, bribing the blood-thirsty wretches to do their dirty work. Antonius sees her, does he recognize her? Impos- sible. How could he know her in her disguise? He follows her at a distance, as she prays for strength and quickens her pace. She feels him gaining on her, and hears his footsteps echoing on the paved street. She turns again, he is a few steps from her. What shall she do ? The shadows are growing darker, and this gives her some hope, as she runs forward into another 22 street, where by chance she sees an open doorway, through which she quickly rushes and sinks exhausted behind a marble pillar, which completely hides her within its shadow. She is safe now, but there is no time to loose ; she waits a while, and then emerging from her hiding place, gazes up and down the stilly street, more frightened than before. She summons her courage once more and goes bravely forward unmolested and unwatched, she thinks, to the catacombs. Once within the walls of the catacombs she breathes freer, and amid much weeping she tells the Christians what has happened to Yincin- nius and what she heard on her way. “ Fear nothing, daughter,” the patriarch said. “ One of us will see you home.” “No, no. It would be folly,” Lydia pleads, “ a slave awaits me without.” “ And Yincinnius, when does he returns ? Thank your father for us, he is a good man, would that he would receive the light of faith and come within the fold of the true shep- herd,” spoke the old man. u He will some day,” hopefully replied Lydia ; u see how brave Yincinnius is and he is so young. My father is so brave, I am sure he would not fear to die a martyr. If Caesar knew I was a Christian my father’s head might pay the penalty.” “ Thou art a brave girl, Lydia, God will reward thee,” softly said the old man as he took her little hand in his, and raising it to his withered lips, imprinted a kiss on the dimpled palm. Lydia left the catacombs, satisfied that her duty had been done. A slave joined her. A shadow fell athwart her path, and Antoni us was at her side. Lydia gave a little cry of alarm. “ Thou little fool,” An- tonius whispers ; “ so thou wouldst thwart me, eh ? Come, I forgive thee, and will see thee safely home.” “ Begone, monster ! ” Lydia cried. u I will call for help if thou wilt not leave me.” Antonius muttered something she could not hear, and slunk away in the shadows as she and her slave hastened on their way. 23 All was silent and Lydia could have hardly reached home, when the Christians left the catacombs. As they emerged into the streets, Antonius and his followers cowardly besieged them on all sides. The old man was the first to die from a stroke of Antonius’ sword, and he fell praising God, and urging his followers to have courage and hope in Christ. One by one they were butchered, poor, defenceless things, reddening the streets with their blood, whilst crowds rushed out of their houses, attracted by the cries and groans of the dead and dying. Not one offered assistance, not one to bind a wound, or speak a word of comfort to the expiring sufferers left to die like dogs? whilst Eomans looked on and applauded, watching the inhuman butchery — the death of martyrs was but a circus to them. Thus Lydia had striven to save her friends and had failed, but Antonius himself secretly admired the courage of this young girl, and his conscience reproached him for his treachery. Night grew apace and deepened, whilst Nero’s orgies reached their height of infamous debaucheries. Within Caesar’s palace, Nero and his friends gorged themselves with food, and crazed with wine, they fell mad or numbed upon their mistresses’ bosom, or lay like senseless beasts on the marble floor, reddened not with martyrs’ blood, but with intoxicating wine bought to drown their crimes in forgetfulness. Without the palace gates, the sleeping martyrs on the streets of Borne cried out aloud for vengeance on their murder. Through the dark clouds of night angels descended casting circles of shining light around them, as they bore upwards the souls of Christ’s beloved, and passing through starry realms, they crowned the martyrs’ brows with crowns of roses whose perfume was scattered in dew drops to comfort their brethren left on earth, but to sicken and reproach the Eomans with thoughts of their cruelty. 24 CHAPTER VI. IN THE HOME OF MARCUS -TEMPTATION. Marcus paces up and down his room, lighted by a single lamp, with anger and anxiety both plainly written on his face, where deep furrows are drawn as though a plough had up rooted his smooth but ruddy skin. In his hand he holds an order from Hero, commanding him to appear on trial on the morrow, to answer the charges brought against him by Antonius. The document sets forth the causes and reasons for the trial, naming his offenses, and also charges him to bring his daughter with him, and to give up the Christian boy before the court of Rome. Marcus summons a slave and commands Vincinnius to come to his room. In a short while Vincinnius is before Marcus, wondering what is now in store for him. “Poor boy!” Marcus exclaims as Vincinnius enters the room ; “ thou art the innocent cause of much trouble. Sit thee Vincinnius, at my feet, and listen,” he says, as he opens the scroll and reads its contents. Vincinnius listens as the color dies from his face, and his heart is troubled with reproach to find that he has -brought trouble and dishonor on his benefactor, and to know that he has caused Lydia sorrow and pain. Marcus has finished reading. Vincinnius rises and tells him in a choking voice: “Kind friend, benefactor and noble Roman, it grieves me deeply to see to what sorrow I have un- consciously brought thee, and to hear that I should have put thy life in peril, and also that Lydia should — ” As the words died from his trembling lips, Marcus sud- denly strained him to his bosom in a passionate embrace, whilst he presses a kiss on his pallied brow. “Boy,” Marcus feelingly said, “Thy father was my best friend. A brave Roman general was he, like myself, and many a time we fought together on the same field, braving the same 25 dangers, sharing the same fate. But an evil day came upon him. He and his family became Christians, and Nero in his madness, cruelly slew him, his wife, and children, all, save thee, shed their blood in behalf of their faith. Thou wast a tender babe then. Ah ! how I remember well the day ! I returned from battle to hear that thy father was killed by Nero’s orders, and that all of his family were condemned to die. Raging and terror- stricken, I hastened to Nero’s palace, and there, on bended knee, did I sue for thy life to be spared. Nero was obsti- nate. I begged, and pleaded, until he finally yielded to let thee live. I promised to rear thee as my own, but Nero refused me that boon, and ordered thee out of Rome. I hid thee in my very palace until I placed thee in the care of a good Christian family, and it was but yesterday I found thee, who was lost to me these many years. This is why I saved thee from the tyranny and cruelty of Antonius — because I love thee.” Thus speaking, the Roman’s frame shook with sobs, and Marcus wept like a child. Vincinnius too, sobbed aloud as he replied: u Most noble Roman, how can I thank thee for thy kindness and charity ? the true God, the God I adore will reward thee, and bless thee for thy magnanimous actions.” Vincinnius took the broad, brawny hand of Marcus and kissed it reverently; that hand that had wielded the battle ax so often to hew down the enemy, but which had never been raised against a friend, or let fall against another in anger. Marcus looked into Vincinnius’ eyes as though he would strive to move his soul to some great sacrifice. u Vincinnius,” he said : u there is one chance to save us, I care not for my life, it is Lydia for whom I plead, yes, my little girl, my motherless child, my only lamb ! she, who should have been thy sister ! Ye Gods ! she for whom I would sacrifice every drop of blood that flows in my body.” Marcus could not repress a sob, and continued: u Yes, Vincinnius, I ask thee to spare my child, I, a proud Roman general, bend my head to thee for mercy, to thee, a boy ! ” and his gray head bent supplicatingly before the youth trembling before him, 26 u Nero, in his hate,” Marcus continued, u might behead me for harboring thee, a Christian, whose life is accursed in the eyes of Kome ; and then my Lydia will be alone to fight the world. Nero will call on thee to abjure thy faith to-morrow, at the trial ; do so now, make the sacrifice, it is yet time, do it for Lydia’s sake, not for me. Listen, I will adopt thee as my son ; riches, glory and honor will be thine. Nay, more ! Lydia shall be thy wife ! I had promised her to another.” And as he spoke, a dangerons fire of hate and contempt flashed from his eye. u But now, I swear to thee, she is thine, for my old heart knows and feels full well that she loves thee, and thou, thou — ” u Yes,” Vincinnius answered, blushing, “ I love her, e’en though I cannot fix my thoughts on earthly affections, our souls have flown to one another like two doves in a nest, and if we can- not be united here below, our love will be glorified in Paradise.” Marcus gazed in admiration and love at the boy before him, as he pressed his hand warmly and said : u Think of what I have offered thee, my boy, thy answer ? ” Vincinnius shrunk from his gaze as if it hurt him, for of a sudden he remembered that he was a Christian, and what must be his answer. He trembled as the temptation poured into his lap as it were the most luscious fruits the world could give. Beautiful dream- vision of happiness rose before him, there was his chance; one word and all was his: love, ambition, honor, pleasure, all where there to lure him on ! to what ? Then the debt that he owed this man, had he not saved his life ? could he be so ungrateful to him as to refuse what he offered, after all that he had done for him * Conflicting emotions wrangled within him, the tempter whispered into his ear all that was promised him. Lydia rose up to his view ; he saw her pleading for her father’s life ; he beheld her sweet face, her eyes veiled in tears, her lips half apart like an opening rosebud, her little hand outstretched to him beseechingly. u Oh God ! ” he cried out in agony, u give me strength ! ” u Think again,” Marcus said, “ I will give thee ’till to-mor- row’s dawn to decide.” 27 Vincinnius had conquered himself, and his prayer was heard, for it seemed to him he had the strength suddenly of a lion, as though he were prepared to meet death on the arena. He gathered himself proudly together and with folded arms, he replied in a clear voice : “ No. I have decided now.” u Thou wilt accept my offer ? ” Marcus eagerly questioned. u Never ! ” Vincinnius answered. u I can not, will not renounce my faith, even to save thy life, nor for Lydia whom I so dearly love.” He saw the pain that rose like whipcords on the face of Marcus, as the man drew back aghast at his refusal, and hurt to the quick as though stung by a blow. u Forgive me, Marcus,” Vincinnius cried out, “ O, worthy man, that I should cause thee so much pain ! but thou cans’t not understand that Christ, my Master, must be obeyed before thee. I too, suffer, but it is for God I bear it all. I am young to die, life is sweet, but I go bravely forth to meet death. Nero can butcher my body, but he can not kill my soul. I love Lydia, thy daughter, I could make her happy, but my duty lies beyond this earth, in Heaven I will await thee and her, my loved one, where angels watch to crown the faithful soldier of Christ with everlasting peace.” Marcus, who had never feared living man, not even Nero, trembled in the chair where he sat, overcome by Vincinnius’ words, and at the same time ashamed that he had tempted one so brave. He rose slowly and took the boy’s hand in his and silently pressed it to his lips. u I am not worthy to have thee,” he sorrowfully said. u Vincinnius, the gods preserve thee, thou art braver than I to refuse all I have offered thee, to follow thy Christ and do His will. I admire thy courage; go and prepare thyself for to morrow’s trial, when Lydia and myself with thee will face Nero and his court.” Vincinnius walked out of the room like one in a dream and was glad to breathe the free air again, to be outside, alone, where he could gather his senses and rehearse the scene over, wherein he had just played a lead- ing part. Marcus did not sleep that night, but walked up and down, 28 restless and agitated, not knowing what the morrow would bring forth. He gazed at the sleeping Tiber in the distance, through his window, where the waters lay silent and peaceful in strange contrast to the war that raged within his heart. The night too, breathed peace, the stars spoke of restfulness, and the moon sat weiridly, white and still like a sentinel guarding the tomb of the sleeping day. All nature spoke of rest, as he asked him- self what life had brought him, he had served Nero well and faithfully, and now because he saved an innocent boy from the cruelty and cowardly assaults of a false friend, all his favors, his loyalty, his bravery were forgotten, and he was called to answer before the whole of Eome, base charges, brought by a hypocrite through revenge. Yincinnius was far happier than he in his simple childish faith, ready to suffer without a mur- mur, anything for a higher Master — one not of this world. Dawn found Marcus weary and exhausted, asleep in his chair before the open window. Yincinnius paused in his walk through Marcus’ palace, as he entered an olive grove, wondering where his brethren were, and wishing he could be with them, now, for he felt very happy knowing that he had done his duty and was faithful to God. The night was young, the moon, like a silver boat, floated on high, and touched every leaf and shrub with her white fin- gers, that softened the outlines of the garden and spiritualized the scene into a fairy brightness, like the whiteness of Heaven adorned in the reflected glory of the Divine Majesty. In the background, tall and dark against the sky, Nero’s palace loomed up on the hills like an angry spectre, foreboding evil, watching like a bird of prey hidden in the dark, ready to pounce on an unsuspecting victim. A shadow startled Yincin- nius, when lo ! in the shining light Lydia appeared to him, like some saint clothed in glory. Never has he seen aught so beau- tiful as she stood there before him clad in white, with the moon shining on her neck and face, her slight figure curved in grace- ful lines and her eyes beaming with an ethereal light. She stood there as if carved of marble, or like a picture flashed 29 across the vision, springing out of the darkness. He felt like running to her and clasping her to his heart, but he restrained himself, and she motioned him to silence with her finger on her lips. She glides towards him. “ Come,” she whispered, “ let us sit here, I have so much to tell thee.” They sat down to- gether on a stone bench, half hidden ’twixt light and shadow, whispering low together in the dreamy silence of the night. She told him of the plot to murder the Christians, how she had warned his friends, and how Antonius and his followers had slain them all. Yincinnius wept as he heard that all his friends were dead, and she soothed him as only a woman can, even though she is a child. u What did they do to thee in that awful prison ? ” Lydia asked. Then Yincinnius related his story and all that had hap- pened to him since they had last met. “ And you gave up all for Christ I ” she said when he had finished. u All, even thee, my sweet Lydia ! ” he answered. u And thou dost not love me any more ? ” she reproach- fully asked. u Thou knowest that true love is eternal, Lydia,” he softly answered. u Thou too, art a Christian, though I should die, we will meet beyond the skies, where no man can apart us. And wilt thou not be true to me ? ” he said. u How cansT thou ask, Yincinnius ? have I not sought danger for thee and thine ? But I am only a tiny girl, I am so weak and foolish, and sometimes I fear — ” u There is nothing to fear, Lydia, if thou belie vest in Christ. He will strengthen thee, thou must be brave.” u Oh ! to-morrow ! If Nero knows I am a Christian, my poor, dear father will be killed ! ” and the girl wept as though her heart would break. Yincinnius bent over her and consoled her as best he may. u There, Lydia, no tears, now, thy father is a brave and noble man ; he fears not death. Hast thou not promised to suffer for Christ ? ” 30 “ Yes, yes, but if he should die — ” “ Thou wilt be happy with him, thou wilt wait and soon thou too wilt follow him and die for Christ, for I think thy father will embrace our faith, and even if he dies a pagan, God will be just to him, for he is a good man” “ I will tell him to-night that I am a Christian,” Lydia said. “ Ah ! thou art braver than I thought,” replied Vinciimius. “ ’Tis well, kneel with me and we will pray here together for strength and courage for to-morrow’s trial, and that thy father may find the true God before he dies.” Alone with God and the stars, these two children clasped hands and knelt on the soft, green earth side by side, lifting up their young hearts together in the silent grove, with the moon looking down upon them like Heaven’s benediction; and the passing wind, as it kissed their brows, caught their innocent words and wafted them before the throne on High, where they fell like dewy roses at the feet o£ Christ. Vincinnius led Lydia back to the house, and her last words were: “To-night, my father shall know that I am a child of Christ.” Vincinnius gazed after her retreating form, and then re- turned to the grove to watch and pray. 31 CAHPTER VII. THE TRIAL. All Rome was agog with excitement, groups of people congregated on the streets as early as sunrise, eagerly discussing and commenting on the trial of Marcus Vitellus which was to take place that day. This had furnished Rome with a sensation and awakened her from her lethargy. One man in a group said : “ Marcus Vitellus is the bravest man in all Rome, he fears no one, not even Caesar.” “ But he harbored a hated Christiam dog, and his daughter claims this boy as a friend ! ” replied another. “ Hush ! ” whispered a ragged crone, shaking her stick at the speakers, as she gazed at them from her bleared eyes, and her elfish dirty locks blew in the breeze. “ They say his daughter is a Christian,” she said, “and she loves the boy, ha! ha! ha!” the witch diabolically laughed. “ Ye Gods! ” another cired, “is Rome to be ruled by Chris- tian babes, that they should turn the heads of her Generals 1 ” “ Bah, ? tis a lie, I believe none of it,” a soldier said. “ 7 Tis the truth, I swear it, ” a prison-guard said, “ Catullus my cousin, saw it all. ” The crowd eagerly pressed around him to hear the story. “ Tell us all about it, tell us quick,” they shouted. “Well, well,” be quiet and I will tell ye all I know,” he answered. “ The boy had a letter from the Christians, it was a plot to murder Nero. Antonius tried to get the secret from him, but the boy threw it into the river. Then Antonius re- primanded the youth, when he turned on him and attacked him most violently. And then — then — ” “ Well go on, ” the rabble yelled. “Where was I? Well then, ah yes. Marcus rushed into the prison hearing cries, and thinking Antonius had misused the boy, whose father he had known, he released the boy and 32 took him to his home, swearing vengeance against Antonius, who told Cresar about it and — ” “We know the rest, and will soon see the fun/’ several cried. u The boy should be put on the rack and made to confess. He should be thrown to the lions, ” a man shouted. u Friends, the hour grows late,” some one cried, u let’s to the market-place to see the trial.” The crowd by one impulse surged forward like a huge wave rolling on to engulf everything in its path. Excitement was rife at the market place, for it was long that Eome had seen one of her foremost men led forward like a criminal to be tried before the whole populace. In the center of the market place (a large open square), Caesar’s throne rose in magnificent splendor high above the people, perched under the blue sky like some commanding aegis. This throne was gaily decorated with rich trappings, and a flight of steps led up to it, for his august majesty to ascend, while at the feet were benches for the orators, the senate and other distinguished personages to sit. Then to the right was a cricle where the accused were to take their places under guard, and scattered in the background and on the sides of the place were marble statues of the gods and idols before which the sacred incense burned, rising in clouds of smoke like a thick fog at sea. In one corner was the rack, that awful instrument of torture whose excruciating pangs so many had undergone, and a boil- ing tank of oil stood beside it — that relic of barbaric cruelty, a parody on the civilization of mighty Kome. The crowds en- tered and jostled each other, pushing forward here and there to gain a corner of vantage, while yelling children clung to their mother’s dress, and even the women fought for places, as eager as the men to witness any scene of horror or atrocious- ness, all ready to feast their eyes on tortured victims, like vul- tures gloating over some wounded prey. A fanfare of trumpets shrilly rending the air was heard 33 above the din and confusion reigning there, and of a sudden a deep silence, a terrible awe fell over the panting multitude, like a calm settling over a roaring ocean lulling it to sleep. All eyes turned to the front and loud shouts of joy greeted Caesar as he was lifted from his litter by attendant slaves, and he stepped to the ground, proudly waving his hand to the crowd in recog- nition of their huzzahs. Caesar then strode up the steps ac- companied by faithful friends, and drawing his bright-colored toga of royal purple around him, he sat and gazed with satis- faction upon the scene. A titter of excitement ran through the crowd, and men, women and children elbowed their way closer and strained every nerve as the prisoners entered the public square. The crowd well-nigh burst into a cry of enthu- siasm when they beheld Marcus Vitellus walk in, leading his daughter by one hand, and Vincinnius by the other. Marcus had aged in a single night, and his face bore the deep lines of care and suffering ; his head was slightly bowed in sorrow, but his body was erect and his attitude defiant. Lydia clung trem- bling to her father’s arm, her face pale as the marble pillars around her, a tremor on her childish lips, whilst her hair floated around her, over her white gown like a golden mist tinged with Heaven’s own light. Vincinnius stood proud and brave on the other side, his face showing no trace of the struggle of the night before, or no anxiety for the ordeal he was to pass through. His eyes had a sweet, trustful look in them that would have won confidence even from Nero, if he had dared pity a Christian. His face too, was pale, and but for a look of compassion that would steal furtively like a shadow over the face of the sun, whenever he gazed tenderly on Lydia, he bore a look of contentment, for he was ready to win a martyr’s crown. Women wept and strong men turned away, such a picture stung them to the quick and rose up to accuse them as mur- derers. Some cried out u ’tis a shame ! ” one screamed : u Down with Caesar, the tyrant ! ” and still another shouted : “ Set them free, ” Nero frowned in anger and moved uneasily in his 34 seat, for he had not expected this, and a black look began to gather on his brow, as he commanded the trial to proceed. Antonius made his charge with a leer of revenge on his countenance, but when he said : “ And please thee, Caesar, on the night that the Christians were slain by thy most august commands, I met Lydia, the daughter of my quondam friend, Marcus Yitellus, coming out of the catacombs, whither she had gone to meet some Christian youth to save him from slaughter, or — V Marcus Yitellus sprung forward like a beast in the desert attacking a foe. u Silence ! ” he interrupted Antonius as he cried out in a voice ringing with fire and hate that sounded like a trumpet blast over the breathless market place. u Silence ! I say ! ” he cried, cutting the words out of Antonius’ mouth like a whip. u Coward ! thou best ! ” he continued, as he advanced to the very foot of Caesar’s throne. u Thou hypocrite ! ” he hissed at Antonius, u thou art not satisfied with thy base and false charges against me, but thou wouldst insult my daughter publicly, thou wouldst pollute her name 1 My flesh and blood ! my pure lamb ! thou wouldst traduce her before the whole Eoman people ! I tell thee, Caesar, this man raves. If I thought my daughter guilty of treason, or if I, for one minute, could suspect her of what this worm would impute to her and rob her of her chaste innocence, even in thought, I would strike her to the heart with this dagger, which I shall bury into thy foul vitals, Antonius ! ” Thus speaking, he closed on Antonius and before it could be prevented he had thrust the dagger upon Antonius, but it fell and only struck his uplifted hand which he had raised in fear and shame. The people shrieked themselves hoarse and it was with difficulty that they were held back. u Down with Antonius ! ” they cried, as the guards sur- rounded Marcus and chained his hands. Lydia swooned in Yincinnius arms, who bade her be brave and all would be well, as he soothed her with gentle words. Yincinnius now was ordered forward, and he walked bravely, gazing at Nero with eyes that burnt like fire into this tyrant’s soul. 35 Caesar smiled. “ Thou art young, boy, I would spare thy life. Thou hast health, youth, comeliness ; I will give thee riches, make thee great, I promise thee anything in my power to grant, if thou wilt reveal to me the hiding place of thy ac- cursed sect of conspirators, and if thou wilt renounce thy God.” u Never ! ” Vincinnius answered, his clear, young voice resounding like a bell over the silent throng. u I fear thee not, O Caesar! and we Christiaus do not conspire against thee. We are peaceful, but will not bow down in adoration before wood and marble, for we adore the one true God, Jesus Christ, the Redeemer and Ruler of the world.” Caesar scowled and cried out : u Infamous boy ! Thou re- fusest my gifts, defiest the gods and my power before the whole of Rome ! Take him,” he ordered, u put him on the rack, and make him confess.” “ Ye gods ! Be merciful, O Caesar ! he is so young ! ” cried Marcus. “ See, Caesar, on my knees before thee, I plead for mercy for this boy.” Caesar heeded not, and Vincinnius was dragged away as Lydia clung to him and her cries rent the hearts of many there. Lydia flung herself at the feet of Caesar’s throne. u O, mighty Caesar ! ’tis my birthday ! ” she cried, “ but a fortnight since, thou didst promise me any gift I named ; now grant me the life of my father and that of Vincinnius.” u What ? ” exclaimed Caesar, rising from his throne and standing amazed, looking down at the girl in abasement at his feet. u Lydia, thou on thy knees before me, thou pleading for a Christian’s boy’s life ? Could Antonius have spoken the truth T ” u No, Caesar ! ” again cried Marcus. u I tell thee again he lies, and thou knowest it well.” And as he spoke the groans of Vincinnius pierced through space and chilled the hearts of even hardened Romans. “ Listen to his cries ! ” said Marcus. u Hast thou a heart of stone, thou tyrant ? ” he hissed at Nero, and Nero, livid with rage, trembled where he stood. Vincinnius, carried back by guards, was placed limped and 36 well-nigh lifeless on the ground, where he lay moaning low, and with blood streaming from his lij)S. Lydia caressed him and lay his head on her lap whilst Marcus let the boy’s body rest on his knees, as the crowd murmured angrily like the lashing of the waves portending a storm. u He still refuses to confess or to give up his faith ! ” questioned Nero of the guard. u Aye, mighty Caesar, his lips were sealed,” answered the guard. u Ye gods ! what courage ? ” said Caesar, and he turned away as though the sight sickened him. “ When he revives, throw him into the pot of boiling oil, and then he might grow more submissive,” commanded Caesar. u Inhuman monster ! ” cried Marcus, goaded to desperation. u Thou butcher and coward ! ” at these words, the friends of Caesar rose and Antonius came threateningly forward as though to smite Marcus. u Back ! I say ! ” howled Marcus to Antonius. u Thou cur, I fear thee not, strike if thou durst ! seducer and hypocrite, traitorous friend ! ” Then lifting his shackled hands menacingly and defiently to Caesar, he continued : “ Listen, Caesar, for the last time, and hear, O people of Rome. This man — your Caesar, called Nero — years ago boasted of my friendship. A brave Roman general, my most devoted companion in arms, Petronius, whom you all knew well, one day saved your Caesar’s life from an assassin’s hand, that of a trusted slave. He himself caught the blow, and lay long wounded at death’s door. Petronius and his family embraced the Christian faith, and Caesar, the great, the noble emperor of Rome, rewarded him and his dear ones with death. Yincinnius was an infant, I pleaded for his life, the august Caesar heard my prayer, I sought to have this child made mine, but Caesar thrust him like a dog into the cold one night, aye, stole him from my very house, when I picked him up and gave him to a Christian woman to raise. This babe was Yincinnius. Now, he would kill this boy, forsooth, because he is loyal to his promises, true to his God ! I tell thee, Caesar, I hate thee and Rome, for thou art a dissolute tyrant, and Rome 37 a bed of vice and corruption ; thy friends that fawn on thee are traitors, and thy gods, false dumb images of nothingness. My daughter, my dear Lydia, is a Christian, she told me with her own lips last night. She did try to save the Christians, but she warned them too late. She is not the vile thing that traitor Antonius would dare say. I now renounce thy gods, I turn my back on thee and Rome. Farewell forever ! Before all, I acknowledge Christ, the God of the Christians, and will receive mercy and life eternal from Him, but not from thee, O Caesar ! nor thy idols of stone. With Lydia and Vincinnius, I go brave- ly to death.” Silence, awful and impenetrable, reigned supreme, but now it broke into angry mutterings from the mob, who cried out : u Free them, O Caesar ! ” whilst a few screamed : u Traitors, to the death with them ! long live Caesar ! ” Caesar paled and quailed before the speech of Marcus which cut him like a sword thrust. He caught hold of his chair for support, whilst the words of Marcus rung in his ears and beat against his breast like the wings of a bird battling against a rock, and wounding itself at every blow. His eyes rolled wildly about, a look of pity for an instant trembled around the corners of his sensual lips as he cried out : “ Marcus, Marcus, why hast thou done this ? ” Then remembering himself, his pity turned to hate, and in a loud voice, husky with passion, he cried : u To death with the traitors ! ” Then he descended his throne slowly and heavily as if the weight of a hundred years of crime were pressing him down to the earth. The guards took their prisoners. Marcus embraced Lydia and Vincinnius, as taking their hands in his, he joined them together and said : u O Christ, look down and bless these two.” He murmured a prayer looking up to the clear blue sky, where he knew peace awaited them. They were led away and each was thrown into a seething pot of oil. A splashing of their bodies was heard as they fell into the pots $ a piercing cry from Lydia echoed over the place, a cry so awful that Nero turned and placing his hands over his ears to shut out the dreadful 38 sound, hurriedly left the scene. A few groans like the sough of winter winds in pain, and then three souls had won victorious martyr’s crowns, as they winged their flight heavenwards, and smiled from above as Nero went back to scheme and plot more cruelty and to shed more Christian blood. The crowd was dispersing, when a deep darkness suddenly gathered, lightning scarred the vault of heaven with forked flames, a low, rumbling noise was heard, the earth shook, as Mount iEtna convulsed, and Rome trembled while many statues in the market place fell crashing to the ground, as though shamed and frightened at the crimes that had just been en- acted. Nero heard the noise, and grew afraid, as he covered his head with his mantle, and sunk back exhausted on his litter.