All admired the painting; but poor Severus was much chagrined at seeing how his good father had unwittingly supplied the information desired by Torquatus, and had furnished him with a sure clue to the desired turn, by calling his attention to the tomb close round it, distinguishable by so remarkable a picture. When their company was departed, he told all that he had observed to his brother, remarking, “That man will give us trouble yet: I strongly suspect him.” In a short time they had removed every mark which Torquatus had made at the turnings. But this was no security against his reckonings; and they determined to prepare for changing the road, by blocking up the present one, and turning off at another point. For this purpose they had the sand of new excavations brought to the ends of a gallery which crossed the main avenue, where this was low, and left it heaped up there till the faithful could be instructed of the intended change. [Illustration: Moses striking the rock, from the Cemetery of “Inter duos Lauros.”] CHAPTER V. ABOVE GROUND. To recover our reader from his long subterranean excursion, we must take him with us on another visit, to the “happy Campania,” or, “Campany the blest,” as an old writer might have called it. There we left Fabiola perplexed by some sentences which she had found. They came to her like a letter from another world; she hardly knew of what character. She wished to learn more about them, but she hardly durst inquire. Many visitors called the next day, and for several days after, and she often thought of putting before some or other of them the mysterious sentences, but she could not bring herself to do it. A lady, whose life was like her own, philosophically correct, and coldly virtuous, came; and they talked together over the fashionable opinions of the day. She took out her vellum page to puzzle her; but she shrank from submitting it to her: it felt profane to do so. A learned man, well read in all branches of science and literature, paid her a long visit, and spoke very charmingly on the sublimer views of the older schools. She was tempted to consult _him_ about her discovery; but it seemed to contain something higher than he could comprehend. It was strange that, after all, when wisdom or consolation was to be sought, the noble and haughty Roman lady should turn instinctively to her Christian slave. And so it was now. The first moment they were alone, after several days of company and visits, Fabiola produced her parchment, and placed it before Syra. There passed over her countenance an emotion not observable to her mistress; but she was perfectly calm, as she looked up from reading. “That writing,” said her mistress, “I got at Chromatius’s villa, on the back of a note, probably by mistake. I cannot drive it out of my mind, which is quite perplexed by it.” “Why should it be so, my noble lady? Its sense seems plain enough.”