can do with me what they like."

"Do you swear that you will not betray them?"

"I do, by the life of Caesar and the immortal gods," said Marcellus,
solemnly.

"Come along, then," said the boy. "We do not need torches. Follow me
carefully."

And the lad entered the narrow opening.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CATACOMBS

"No light, but rather darkness visible
Served only to discover sights of woe,
Regions of sorrow, doleful shades."

They went on in utter darkness, until at length the passage widened and
they came to steps which led below. Marcellus held the boy's dress and
followed him.

It was certainly a situation that might provoke alarm. He was
voluntarily placing himself in the power of men whom his class had
driven from the upper air into these drear abodes. To them he could only
be known as a persecutor. Yet such was the impression which he had
formed of their gentleness and meekness that he had no fear of harm. It
was in the power of this boy to lead him to death in the thick darkness
of these impenetrable labyrinths, but even of this he did not think. It
was a desire to know more of these Christians, to get at their secret,
that led him on, and as he had sworn, so had he resolved that this visit
should not be made use of to their betrayal or injury.

After descending for some time the steps ended, and they walked along
the level ground. Soon they turned and entered a small vaulted chamber
which was lighted from the faint glow of a furnace. The boy had walked
on with the unhesitating step of one perfectly familiar with the way.
Arriving at the chamber, he lighted a torch which lay on the floor and
resumed his journey.

There is something in the air of a burial place which is unlike that of
any other place. It is not altogether the closeness, or the damp, or the
sickening smell of earth, but a certain subtle influence which unites
with them and intensifies them. The spell of the dead is there, and it
rests alike on mind and body. Such was the air of the catacombs. Cold
and damp, it struck upon the visitor like the chill atmosphere from the
realms of death. The living felt the mysterious power of the dead.

The boy Pollio went on before and Marcellus followed after. The torch
but faintly illumined the intense darkness. No beam of day, no ray
however weak, could ever enter here to relieve the thickness of the
oppressive gloom. It was literally darkness that might be felt. The
torchlight shone