And now this dim groping after what was better than he had seen; this inarticulate yearning after something higher than the sordid round of pleasure; this innate assurance that to man there is an ideal of spiritual loveliness and perfection to which he can attain if shown the way—all this now had found expression in the almost involuntary plunge into the Nemausean pool. He had seen the ideal, and he had broken with the regnant paganism to reach and rescue it. “What, my Æmilius! like Narcissus adoring thine incomparable self in the water!” The young lawyer started, and an expression of annoyance swept over his face. The voice was that of Callipodius. “Oh, my good friend,” answered Æmilius, “I was otherwise engaged with my thoughts than in thinking of my poor self.” “Poor! with so many hides of land, vineyards and sheep‐walks and olive groves! Aye, and with a flourishing business, and the possession of a matchless country residence at Ad Fines.” “Callipodius,” said the patron, “thou art a worthy creature, and lackest but one thing to make thee excellent.” “And what is that?” “Bread made without salt is insipid, and conversation seasoned with flattery nauseates. I have heard of a slave who was smeared with honey and exposed on a cross to wasps. When thou addressest me I seem to feel as though thou wast dabbing honey over me.” “My Æmilius! But where would you find wasps to sting you?” “Oh! they are ready and eager—and I am flying them—all the votaries of Nemausus thou hast seen this day. As thou lovest me, leave me to myself, to rest. I am heavy with sleep, and the sun is hot.” “Ah! dreamer that thou art. I know that thou art thinking of the fair Perpetua, that worshiper of an——” “Cease; I will not hear this.” Æmilius made an angry gesture. Then he started up and struck at his brow. “By Hercules! I am a coward, flying, flying, when she is in extreme peril. Where is she now? Maybe those savages, those fools, are hunting after her to cast her again into the basin, or to thrust poisoned cakes into her mouth. By the Sacred Twins! I am doing that which is unworthy of me—that for which I could never condone. I am leaving the feeble and the helpless, unassisted, unprotected in extremity of danger. Thrust back, my good men! Thrust back! I cannot to Arelate. I must again to Nemausus!” CHAPTER VI THE PASSAGE INTO LIFE Æmilius had sprung to his feet and called to the men to cease punting. They rested on their poles, awaiting further instructions, and the impetus given to the raft carried it among some yellow flags and rushes.