But on the other hand are the challenging and captivating words of Christ. Had he only spoken of the future life as an enthusiastic Teacher, and then had passed to the perpetual slumber of the grave like other philosophers of the time, he would be remembered long. But, when he had spoken his words concerning immortality, he had added, "I myself shall surely come back again." From the evidence which Quintus has heard in Jerusalem he has now fulfilled his prediction. He has put to scorn the fidelity of the Roman sentinels at the tomb of Joseph; he has reversed the laws of nature; he has appeared again, in unique proof that there is to be a resurrection of the dead. Wide is the difference between Cicero and the Christ. The one has spoken a mere opinion, so beautiful in its phrase that it shall pass down into the future literature of men. The other has spoken a revelation, and then has returned to prove that revelation true. Which shall it be--Cicero or the Christ? But to accept the Jewish Teacher means earthly loss. As he keeps guard with himself through the night hours Quintus is wondering if he shall incur the hostility of his father Marcus and shall be forced to sacrifice his estates on the Palatine. He fancies also the grief of the fair Lucretia when she learns that he has chosen an alien faith. And he remembers, further, that in the choice of the Christus he is joining a company on whom the Eastern world is already casting its withering contempt. Cicero or the Christus. Which shall it be? There are no struggles like the night wrestlings of the soul in matters of religion. What words can measure the divers arguments, the opposing considerations, the conflicting emotions that shape human choice? Quintus stands at the point where soon--in the progress of the new faith--Saul from Tarsus, Clement of Rome, and so many more of the great spirits of that first era are to stand. The wrestlings of the night! Then foul demons are abroad; and then God's good angels are descending the ladders of the sky. Soon comes a great moment. While the soul of Quintus is in wild commotion, there falls upon him a mighty force which is not of earth. Coming he knows not whence, but not invading the department of his will, it impels him to the Christ. Transformed is this Roman knight, who has been taught the doctrines of the Latin cult, and whose nation can only feel disdain for a Galilaean who proposes to revolutionize the ages. The words of the augur at Brundisium are having in truth a strange fulfillment. As if the Man were present on whom he had looked in the Porch of Solomon. Quintus speaks his choice for the long eternities: "Happen what may, I take thee, O Christus, for my Lord and Master. I sacrifice my Roman knighthood for thee, if it shall be required. I choose thee, because thou hast risen from the dead and hast proven that there is another life for men." Not Cicero, but Christ! The Roman knight has made the great decision. V