ves. And you, lady of Piso, how can I sincerely
rejoice that you have added your great name to our humble roll, when I
think of what may await you. Is that form to be dragged with violence
amid the hootings of the populace to the tribunal of the beast Varus?
Are those limbs for the rack or the fire?'

'I trust in God they are not, Probus. But if they are needed, they are
little to give for that which has made me so rich, and given wings to
the soul. I can spare the body, now that the soul can live without it.'

'There spoke the universal Christian! What but truth could so change our
poor human nature into somewhat quite divine and godlike! Think not I
shrink myself at the prospect of obstruction and assault. I am a man
loose upon the world, weaned by suffering and misfortune from earth,
and ready at any hour to depart from it. You know my early story. But I
in vain seek to steel myself to the pains of others. From what I have
said, I fear lest you should think me over-apprehensive. I wish it were
so. But all seems at this moment to be against us.'

'More then,' said Julia, 'must have come to your ears than to ours. When
last we sat with the Emperor at his table, he seemed well inclined. And
when urged by Fronto, rebuked him even with violence.'

'Yes, it was so.'

'Is it then from the scenes of to-day at the temple that you draw fresh
omens of misfortune? I have asked you what we should think of them.'

'I almost tremble to say. I stood, Piso, not far from you, upon the
lower flight of steps, where I think you observed me.'

'I did. And at the sound of that voice from the temple, methought your
face was paler than Aurelian's. Why was that?'

'Because, Piso, I knew the voice.'

'Knew it! What mean you?'

'Repeat it not--let it sink into your ear, and there abide. It was
Macer's.'

'Macer's? Surely you jest.'

'Alas! I wish it were a jest. But his tones were no more to be mistaken
than were the thunder's.'

'This, should it be known, would, it is plain to see, greatly exasperate
Aurelian. It would be more than enough for Fronto to work his worst ends
with. His suspicions at once fell upon the Christians.'

'That,' said Probus, 'was, I am confident, an artifice. The countenance,
struck with superstitious horror, is not to be read amiss. Seen, though
but for a moment, and the signature is upon it, one and unequivocal. But
with quick instinct the wily priest saw his advantage, seized it, and,
whether believi