suppose you
misled by the opinion of Cassiodorus, whose politics were as unsound as
his theology. I read here, in his treatise _De Anima_, that there is
neither bliss nor torment for the soul before the great Day of
Judgment--a flagrant heresy, in utter contradiction of the Scriptures,
and long ago refuted by the holy Augustine. Can you trust in worldly
matters one who is so blinded to the clearest truths of eternity?'

'I confess,' murmured the listener, 'that I thought him justified in
his support of the Gothic kingdom.'

'You are content, then, you whose ancestors have sat in the Senate, to
be ruled by barbarians? You, a Catholic, revolt not against the
dominions of Arians? And so little is your foresight, your speculation,
that you dream of permanent conquest of Italy by this leader of a
barbaric horde? I tell you, lord Marcian, that ere another twelvemonth
has passed, the Goths will be defeated, scattered, lost. The Emperor is
preparing a great army, and before the end of summer Belisarius will
again land on our shores. Think you Totila can stand against him? Be
warned; consider with yourself. Because your confession had indeed
something of sickness in it, I have forborne to use it against you as
another might have done. But not with impunity can you resume your
traitorous practices; of that be assured.'

He paused, looking sternly into Marcian's face.

'I have no leisure to debate with you, to confute your errors. One
thing only will I add, before dismissing you to ponder what I have
uttered. It is in your power to prove your return to reason and the
dignity of a Roman; I need not say how; the occasion will surely ere
long present itself, and leave you in no doubt as to my meaning.
Remember, then, how I have dealt with you; remember, also, that no such
indulgence will be granted to a renewal of your crime against Rome,
your sin against God.'

Marcian dropped to his knees; there was a moment of silence; then he
arose and went forth.

A week passed, and there came the festival of St. Laurentius. All Rome
streamed out to the basilica beyond the Tiburtine Gate, and among those
who prayed most fervently at the shrine was Marcian. He besought
guidance in an anguish of doubt. Not long ago, in the early days of
summer, carnal temptation had once more overcome him, and the
sufferings, the perils, of this last month he attributed to that lapse
from purity. His illness was perhaps caused by excess of rigour in
penit