“Well done, I say!” shouted a man, thrusting himself forward. His face was inflamed and his eyes dazed. “I—I, Tarsius the slave, and Marcianus, the deacon, are the only Christians with any pluck about us. Cowards that ye all are, quaking at the moment of danger—hares, ye are, hares afraid of the whistling of the wind in the grass. I—I——” “Remove that man,” said the bishop. “He has been drinking.” “I—I drinking. I have supped the precious Ambrussian wine, too good for the rag‐tag. Dost think I would pour out to him who binds brooms? Or to her—a washerwoman from the mountains? Ambrussian wine for such as appreciate good things—gold as amber, thick as oil, sweet as honey.” “Remove him,” said the bishop firmly. Hands were laid on the fellow. Then turning to Marcianus, Castor said sternly, “You have acted inconsiderately and wrongly, against the decrees of the Fathers.” “Aye!—of men who were timorous, and forbade others doing that from which they shrank themselves. I have not so learned Christ.” “Thou thyself mayest be strong,” said Castor, “but thine act will bring the tempest upon the Church, and it will fall upon the weak and young.” “Such as cannot stand against the storm are good for naught,” said Marcianus. “But the storm is none of my brewing. It had arisen before I intervened. The escape of the lady Perpetua from the fountain—that was the beginning, I have but added the final stroke.” “Thou hast acted very wrongly,” said the bishop. “May God, the God of all comfort, strengthen us to stand in the evil day. In very truth, the powers of darkness will combine against the Church. The lightnings will indeed flash, the sheep be scattered, and those revealed whom we have esteemed to be true disciples of Christ, but who are far from Him in heart. Many that are first shall be last, and the last first. It is ever so in the Kingdom of Christ—hark!” Suddenly a strange, a terrible sound was heard—a loud, hoarse note, like a blast blown through a triton’s shell, but far louder; it seemed to pass in the air over the house, and set the tiles quivering. Every wall vibrated to it, and every heart thrilled as well. Men rushed into the _atrium_ and looked up at the night sky. Stars twinkled. Nothing extraordinary was visible. But those who looked expected to see some fire‐breathing monster flying athwart the dark, heavenly vault, braying; and others again cried out that this was the trumpet of the archangel, and that the end of all things was come. Then said Marcianus, “It is the voice of the devil Nemausus! He has thus shouted before.” CHAPTER IX STARS IN WATER