“The truth!” laughed his father. “For the truth of your own view of the matter at most. By the gods, but I really do not understand how my son, of all men, should have come to be a defender of this accursed sect! However, be it so! I leave you the free exercise of your judgment; the course of events will soon rectify it. Meanwhile, you will perhaps allow me to carry out the line of action, which I have cautiously weighed with solemn appeals to my conscience.” “Then you want to conjure the age of Nero from the grave?” “Yes, my son. The age of Nero was not so bad, though the unbridled Caesar himself committed many crimes. His fight against the Nazarenes wipes out all scores.” “Then you can praise him for having wrapped Nazarenes in tow and rosin, and set fire to it?” “Those are mere foolish tales, invented by contemptible writers, who were at a loss for color in their pictures.” “What? Things that all the world knows, a fable!” “As you say.” The blood mounted to the young man’s brow. “Then perhaps you will say it is a fable, that Domitian--a second Nero--has killed his mistress by a kick?” “Who says so?” cried Titus Claudius starting up. “All Rome. You only, Father, seem to be ignorant of what has filled thousands with horror.” “You heard it from Cinna.” Quintus shrugged his shoulders. “Be easy,” the priest went on; “I have it from Parthenius, that Julia died of her long illness.” “Parthenius!” laughed Quintus scornfully. “I am not justified in doubting his assertion, particularly in this instance, when it is in contradiction to such an impossible calumny. I myself have been intimate with Caesar long enough to know his calm nature, his equanimity, and self-command.” “Yes, when he speaks to you; but every one knows that he wears a mask in your presence. You are, in fact, the only man in Rome, who can command his respect.” “I should be a fool indeed to believe such a thing. I know full well, that hatred and calumny never sleep. The higher their prey, the more virulent is their attack. Beware, my son, of propagating such disgraceful reports; do not break the law which threatens the detractors of the sovereign with heavy punishment.” “Then, to be a worthy citizen, I must choke the truth?” “Not the truth--only lies. The weeds have been allowed to grow too long, and now we must mow down the crop, which threatens to choke the good seed! Here comes the boy to tell us the time. In an hour the Senate meets. Let us enjoy the interval without vexing each other.” “Then you persist in extreme measures? Every one who confesses the Nazarene must die?” “Without reprieve, be he slave or senator.” Quintus was fighting an agonizing battle; his lips trembled, already parted to cry in despair to the inexorable judge: “Father, you are condemning your son to death...!” but he controlled himself in time. He rose.