The youth was silent; but his countenance, by turns, was pale and flushed. Wine had given him a rash courage, which some strong principle restrained. Now he clenched his hand, and pressed it to his breast; now he bit his lip. At one time he was crumbling the bread between his fingers; at another, he drank off, unconsciously, a cup of wine. “These Christians hate us, and would destroy us all if they could,” said one. Torquatus leaned forward, opened his lips, but remained silent. “Destroy us, indeed! Did they not burn Rome, under Nero; and have they not just set fire to the palace in Asia, over the emperor’s head?” asked a second. Torquatus rose upon his couch, stretched forth his hand, as if about to reply, but drew it back. “But what is infinitely worse is, their maintaining such anti-social doctrines, conniving at such frightful excesses, and degrading themselves to the disgusting worship of an ass’s head,” proceeded a third. Torquatus now fairly writhed; and rising, had lifted his arm, when Fulvius, with a cool calculation of time and words, added, in bitter sarcasm: “Ay, and massacre a child, and devour his flesh and blood, at every assembly.”[70] The arm descended on the table, with a blow that made every goblet and beaker dance and ring, as, in a choked voice, Torquatus exclaimed: “It is a lie! a cursed lie!” “How can you know that?” asked Fulvius, with his blandest tone and look. “Because,” answered the other, with great excitement, “I am myself a Christian; and ready to die for my faith!”