It was a terrible day that he spent, surrounded by all the treasured relics of his unclouded childhood. Titus Claudius came to visit him, to thank him for his filial obedience, and to assure him once more, that his father’s heart had forgiven and forgotten all that had passed. Quintus was incapable of responding to all his loving words, spoken in a voice that trembled with agitation, excepting by sighs and silent signs of consent and submission. In all this Titus Claudius read remorseful distress, and did his utmost to encourage him and raise his spirit; but presently, seeing that his efforts were vain, he left his son to himself again, in the hope that solitude and a night’s rest would restore his agitated soul. But he was mistaken; Quintus did not close his eyes all night. From time to time he fancied he heard the voice of old Calenus, reproaching him with his base apostasy. Then, tortured with horror, he sprang from his bed. He compared the night he had passed in the Tullianum with this present night under his father’s roof. There--a squalid cell, with death under the clutches of wild beasts an almost absolute certainty. Here--a pretty, comfortable room with freedom ere long, happiness for his family, and all the joys of life for himself. And yet his storm-tossed heart had yesterday been at peace, while to-day it was wrung with incessant and unutterable anguish--"Blind fool!"--he seemed to hear the words spoken--“You think you are sacrificing only your own soul. But are you not also betraying and imperilling, so far as in you lies, the whole glorious work of the Master? If all were to act as you have done, where would the sublime idea be, which brought light and joy to the crucified Saviour: the Redemption, to wit, of mankind? Have you any right to sacrifice the salvation of millions, merely to spare your father--however much you may love him--a transient sorrow, which may even lead him too to the light of truth?” He thought that Calenus was standing by his bedside, and laid his hand on his forehead. “Take courage!” said the blind man solemnly, "by God's help all--all--all may be overcome." Again Quintus sat up terror-stricken. It was but a dream with his eyes open--a vision, but how vivid! He had plainly felt the pressure of a hand on his brow, and seen the prophet-like face, with its calm, holy, celestial gaze. At last morning broke. The slaves came to help him to dress. He felt as if he were being dragged to execution, but he unresistingly submitted to all his father commanded.