mb of St. Calixtus. His was
a susceptible, impressionable nature, easily influenced by its
environment, like certain substances that acquire the odour, fragrant or
foul, of the atmosphere by which they are surrounded. Amid the vileness
of the Roman court, his better feelings died, and he was willing to
become the minion of tyranny, or the tool of treachery. Amid the holy
influences of the Christian assembly, some chord responded, like an
Eolian harp, to the breathings of the airs from heaven. It was,
therefore, with strangely conflicting feelings, that he passed beneath
the Capuan Gate, and along the Appian Way, toward the Villa Marcella.
His better nature recoiled from his purposed treachery of the previous
day. His heart yearned to know more of that strange power which
sustained the Christian martyr in the presence of torture and of death.

He was recognized by the porter at the gate of the villa as the
companion of Faustus, and on his inquiry for the house of Hilarus, the
fossor, was directed to a low-walled, tile-roofed building, such as may
be seen in many parts of the Campagna to the present day. About the
house were many stone chippings, and numerous slabs of marble. Under a
sort of arbour, covered with vine branches in full leaf, stood a
grisly-visaged man, with close-cropped, iron-gray hair, chipping with
mallet and chisel at a large sarcophagus, or stone coffin, upon a
mason's bench.

"Do I address Hilarus, the fossor?" asked the Greek, with a graceful
salutation.

"I am Hilarus, at your service, noble sir," replied the old man, with a
kindly expression of countenance.

The young Greek then told of the invitation given him by the good
presbyter, Primitius, and requested to be conducted to him.

"You are, of course, known to the porter, or you would not have obtained
admission to these grounds," said Hilarus. "But you will first honour my
poor roof by partaking some refreshment after your hot walk from the
city."

"Thanks, good friend," replied the Greek, "a draught of your native
wine would not be amiss. Nay, I would prefer it here beneath the
grateful shadow of this vine," he continued, as Hilarus courteously led
the way to the open door of the cottage. This was quite small, and had
almost no furniture save some earthen pots for cooking at an open
fireplace. In a moment the old man re-appeared with an earthen flagon of
wine and a bronze salver, with bread and goat's milk cheese, and a
bronze cup.[21