“Nay, you are in error,” replied Eurymachus. “Those differences are not to be done away with. If you levelled them all to-day, they would originate again of their own accord to-morrow. Their form and aspect will be modified, but their existence is inevitable. Jesus of Nazareth never conceived of such changes. He only sought to revive in those, who have lost it in the varying chances and turmoil of life, some consciousness of the intrinsic worth of all that is truly human. As soon as the great ones of the earth learn to see, that even slaves are their brothers, that even the base-born are the children of the Almighty, all the most violent contrasts of class will be smoothed away, and things that now weigh upon us as a yoke, will be turned into a bond of union. ‘My Kingdom is not of this world,’ said Jesus of Nazareth. He will indeed regenerate man, but through his heart and spirit, and not with force or violent upheaval.” “Then you insist on being miserable, come what may?” cried Barbatus vehemently. “By no means. I only dispute the idea, that the teaching of Christ leads to such issues. Whether rich or poor, master or slave, matters not in the balance of our salvation. Many a one, who holds his head high and free, bears heavier fetters, than the convict in the mines of Sardinia.” Quintus Claudius once more emptied the cup, which Glauce had filled. His brain was in a whirl, and his throat parched. The sight of this slave, lying on a straw mat, and weighing the future destinies of man, and the mystery of existence, with such calm decision, troubled and excited him to an extraordinary degree. At this moment he was in a wilder fever than Eurymachus. He looked down with admiration--almost with envy--at the pale face, which looked so radiant in the midst of suffering, so sublimely happy in spite of wretchedness. And he himself? Did not the saying about the convict in the mines apply to him? Was he not in fact more fettered and bound, than this fugitive slave? What was the liberty that Rome--that the whole world was ready to offer to him? Had he ever been able really to purchase release from that dark melancholy, which oppressed him like an ever-present incubus? What a God must He be, who uplifted the slave to such serene heights! “It is time to start,” he said at last, waking from a deep reverie. “The roads are bad; I fear we can proceed but slowly; besides, we must not keep Caius Aurelius waiting too long. He shares our danger, and is watching in anxious uncertainty.” “Noble Sir!” exclaimed the slave, deeply moved, “are you really prepared again to risk your life? You know, Father, how strongly I set my face against this project; and even now, at the eleventh hour, I entreat you: Consider well what you are doing.”