Baudillas was led along a narrow passage into a chamber in the inner part of the house, away from the apartments for the reception of guests. The room was warmed. It was small, and had a glazed window; that is to say, the opening was closed by a sheet of stalagmite from one of the caves of Larsacus, cut thin. In this chamber, seated on an easy couch, with a roll in his hand, which he was studying, was Marcianus. His countenance was hard and haughty. “You!” he exclaimed, starting with surprise. “What brings you here? I heard that you had been before the magistrate and had confessed. But, bah! of such as you martyrs are not made. You have betrayed us and got off clear yourself.” “You mistake, brother,” answered Baudillas, modestly. “In one thing are you right—I am not of the stuff out of which martyrs and confessors are fashioned. But I betrayed no one. Not that there is any merit due to me for that. I was in such a dire and paralyzing fright that I could not speak.” “How then come you here?” “As we read that the Lord sent His angel to deliver Peter from prison, so has it been with me.” “You lie!” said Marcianus angrily. “No miracle was wrought for you—for such as you who shiver and quake and lose power of speech! Bah! Come, give me a more rational explanation of your escape.” “My slave was the angel who delivered me.” “So you ran away! Could not endure martyrdom, saw the crown shining, and turned tail and used your legs. I can well believe it. Coward! Unworthy of the name of a Christian, undeserving of the cross marked on thy brow, unbecoming of the ministry.” “I know that surely enough,” said Baudillas; “I am of timorous stuff, and from childhood feared pain. But I have not denied Christ.” “What has brought you here?” asked Marcianus curtly. “I have come to thee for counsel.” “The counsel I give thou wilt not take. What saith the Scripture: ‘He that putteth his hand to the plough and turneth back is not fit for the kingdom of God.’ Thou wast called to a glorious confession, and looked back and ran away.” “And thy counsel?” “Return and surrender, and win the crown and palm. But it is waste of breath to say such words to thee. I know thee. Wast thou subjected to torture?” “No, brother.” “No; not the rack, nor the torches, nor the hooks, nor the thumbscrews. Oh, none of these!” “No, brother. It is true, I was scarce tried at all. Indeed, it was good luck—God forgive me!—it was through His mercy that I was saved from denying the faith. I was not even asked to sacrifice.” “Well; go thy ways. I cannot advise thee.” “Stay,” said Baudillas. “I saw in the outer prison some of the faithful, but was in too great fear to recognize any. Who have been taken?”