“Yes, noble Pancratius, he has a comrade younger than himself lying in the same bed. As we were closing the tomb of Restitutus, the body of a boy not more than twelve or thirteen years old was brought to us. Oh, I shall never forget the sight! He had been hung over a fire, and his head, trunk, and limbs nearly to the knees, were burnt to the very bone; and so disfigured was he that no feature could be recognized. Poor little fellow, what he must have suffered! But why should I pity him? Well, we were pressed for time, and we thought the youth of eighteen would not grudge room for his fellow-soldier of twelve, but would own him for a younger brother; so we laid him at Ælius Fabius’s feet. But we had no second phial of blood to put outside, that a second martyr might be known to lie there; for the fire had dried his blood up in his veins.”[77] “What a noble boy! If the first was older, the second was younger than I. What say you, Diogenes, don’t you think it likely you may have to perform the same office for me one of these days?” “Oh, no, I hope not,” said the old digger, with a return of his husky voice. “Do not, I entreat you, allude to such a possibility. Surely my own time must come sooner. How the old trees are spared, indeed, and the young plants cut down!” “Come, come, my good friend, I won’t afflict you. But I have almost forgotten to deliver the message I came to bring. It is, that to-morrow at dawn you must come to my mother’s house, to arrange about preparing the cemeteries for our coming troubles. Our holy Pope will be there, with the priests of the titles, the regionary deacons, the notaries, whose number has been filled up, and you, the head _fossor_, that all may act in concert.” “I will not fail, Pancratius,” replied Diogenes. “And now,” added the youth, “I have a favor to ask you.” “A favor from me?” asked the old man, surprised. “Yes; you will have to begin your work immediately, I suppose. Now, often as I have visited, for devotion, our sacred cemeteries, I have never studied or examined them; and this I should like to do with you, who know them so well.” “Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” answered Diogenes, somewhat flattered by the compliment, but still more pleased by this love for what he so much loved. “After I have received my instructions, I shall go at once to the cemetery of Callistus. Meet me out of the Porta Capena, half an hour before mid-day, and we will go on together.” “But I shall not be alone,” continued Pancratius. “Two youths, recently baptized, desire much to become acquainted with our cemeteries, which they do not yet much know; and have asked me to initiate them there.” “Any friends of yours will be always welcome. What are their names, that we may make no mistake?” “One is Tiburtius, the son of Chromatius, the late prefect; the other is a young man named Torquatus.” Severus started a little, and said: “Are you quite sure about him, Pancratius?”