“Are you so?” asked Callipodius. “Then I wish you would not festoon in such a manner as to lurch against me. You are a Christian. Hard times are coming for such as you.” “Aye, aye! I am a Christian. I don’t care who knows it. I’m not the man to lapse or buy a _libellus_,(5) though they have turned me out.” Callipodius caught the fellow by the shoulder and shook him. “Man,” said he. “Ah, a slave! I recognize you. You are of the family of Julius Largus Litomarus, the wool merchant. Come with me. The games are in a few days, and the director of the sports has been complaining that he wanted more prisoners to cast to the beasts. I have you in the nick of time. I heard you with these ears confess yourself to be a Christian, and the sole worthy one in the town. You are the man for us—plump and juicy, flushed with wine. By the heavenly twins, what a morsel you will make for the panthers! Come with me. If you resist I will summon the crowd, then perhaps they will elect to have you crucified. Come quietly, and it shall be panthers, not the cross. I will conduct you direct to the magistrate and denounce you.” “I pray you! I beseech you! I was talking nonsense. I was enacting a part for the theater. I am no Christian; I was, but I have been turned out, excommunicated. My master and mistress believe, and just to please them and to escape stripes, and get a few favors such as are not granted to the others, I have—you understand.” The slave winked. Beside Callipodius was a lad bearing a torch. He held it up and the flare fell over the face of the now sobered Tarsius. “Come with me, fellow,” said Callipodius. “Nothing will save you but perfect obedience and compliance with what I direct. Hark! was not that the howl of the beasts. Mehercule! they snuff you already. My good friend Æmilius Lentulus Varo, the lawyer, will be your patron; a strong man. But you must answer my questions. Do you know the Lady Quincta and her daughter? Quincta is the widow of Harpinius Læto.” “Aye, aye! the wench was fished out of the pond to‐day.” “That is right. Where are they, do you know their house?” “Yes, but they are not at home now.” “Where are they then?” “Will you denounce them?” asked the slave nervously. “On the contrary. They are menaced. I seek to save them.” “Oh! if that be all, I am your man. They are in the mansion of Baudillas, yonder—that is—but mum, I say! I must not speak. They kicked me out, but I am not ungenerous. I will denounce nobody. But if you want to save the ladies, I will help you with alacrity. They charged me with being drunk—not the ladies—the bishop did that—more shame to him. I but rinsed out my mouth with the Ambrussian. Every drop clear as amber. Ah, sir! in your cellar have you——” A rush of people up the street shouting, “The will of the god! the will of the god! It is being proclaimed in the forum.”