“Are you--is any one--sure they _are_ lies?” Casca asked. “Look you, Casca,” said Claudius, “it is not for any one here to ask that question. Suffice it, that they are lies, base lies.” Casca sighed heavily, and Claudius continued-- “The fugitive, whose name was Amphibalus, at last succeeded in his base designs. Alban, whom every one respected and honoured here, professed himself a Christian, and then the scene changed. So well had Alban hidden this fellow, that it was not for many days that suspicion was directed to his house. When at least it was searched, he, the stranger, had fled. Alban had give him one of his best robes, and wearing that, he escaped suspicion, and passed through the gates. But Alban himself, clothed in the Caracalla, which is the robe the fellow wore, was now under suspicion. ‘You will suffer in his stead, unless you at once sacrifice to the images of the gods,’ the judge said.” “To tell the truth,” said Claudius, “there was something noble in the fellow, for no tortures could make him give in. Hush! what is that?” A low voice was heard to say-- “Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.” “It is Ebba’s voice,” Hyacintha exclaimed, and running towards the door, she found Ebba standing there. “It is Ebba,” Hyacintha repeated. “Permit her to enter and hear the story to the end.” Casca nodded his head by way of assent, and Ebba, leaning against the wall over which a curtain hung, listened intently while Claudius finished his story. “No tortures,” he continued, “would make the fellow give in. The scourge ploughed his back pretty well. He had thirty-nine stripes, and we expected to see him fall down dead.” “Were you in the hall?” Casca exclaimed. “Yes, I have seen the whole play played out,” the boy said carelessly. “The grand climax was to-day, when the executioner threw himself at Alban’s feet, and begged to die with him, or for him. And then there was an uproar indeed. A great multitude pressed round Alban, who was praying and calling upon his God, and crying to Jesus to have mercy, and turn the hearts of the people to himself. “The governor and judge, however, made short work. A new executioner, one of the soldiers, was easily found, and it was not long before the heads of both Alban and Heraclius were rolling on the turf, and their blood sprinkled on the flowers. But they say in the city to-night that there are many who are full of this superstition, and that there will be many more. Thank the gods I am not one!” Ebba, who had been standing motionless by the door, murmured something, which was not distinctly heard, and then vanished. “I believe Ebba is one of them,” Casca said. “If it is so, it will bring us all into trouble, and my father ought to know.” “Well, a truce to the poor wretches. Now,” said Claudius, “let us talk of other things. Ah! here is Ebba with the light. She will not leave us in darkness.”