“How like God’s love has yours been to me,--so wise, so generous, and so unsparing!” sobbed out Pancratius, as he threw himself on the soldier’s neck; then continued: “Promise me one thing more: that this day you will keep near me to the end, and will secure my last legacy to my mother.” “Even if it cost my life, I will not fail. We shall not be parted long, Pancratius.” The deacon now gave notice that all was ready for offering up the holy oblation in the dungeon itself. The two youths looked round, and Pancratius was indeed amazed. The holy priest Lucianus was laid stretched on the floor, with his limbs painfully distended in the _catasta_ or stocks, so that he could not rise. Upon his breast Reparatus had spread the three linen cloths requisite for the altar; on them was laid the unleavened bread, and the mingled chalice, which the deacon steadied with his hand. The head of the aged priest was held up as he read the accustomed prayers, and performed the prescribed ceremonies of the oblation and consecration. And then each one, approaching devoutly, and with tears of gratitude, received from his consecrated hand his share,--that is, the whole of the Mystical Food.[174] Marvellous and beautiful instance of the power of adaptation in God’s Church! Fixed as are her laws, her ingenious love finds means, through their very relaxation, to demonstrate their principles; nay, the very exception presents only a sublimer application of them. Here was a minister of God, and a dispenser of His mysteries, who for once was privileged to be, more than others, like Him whom he represented,--at once the Priest and the Altar. The Church prescribed that the Holy Sacrifice should be offered only over the relics of martyrs; here was a martyr, by a singular prerogative, permitted to offer it over his own body. Yet living, he “lay beneath the feet of God.” The bosom still heaved, and the heart panted under the Divine Mysteries, it is true; but that was only part of the action of the minister: while self was already dead, and the sacrifice of life was, in all but act, completed in him. There was only Christ’s life within and without the sanctuary of the breast.[175] Was ever viaticum for martyrs more worthily prepared? CHAPTER XXIII. THE FIGHT.