“Nay Father, you misunderstand. We do not revere the crucified Saviour as God himself, only as our Master, who revealed the true God to us. Between the God of Christ and your idols there is a great gulf fixed. Your own noble nature associates with those idols of a false faith, aspirations and feelings, which have always been foreign to the spirit of that faith. If only you knew how the faith in the light I walk in glows through my whole being, you would expect the skies to fall, sooner than that I should pronounce the base denial you ask of me.” “Mad fool!” cried the priest in great wrath. “You hold a tissue of lies as more precious than life and happiness, as higher than the honor of your family? Have done with this reckless mockery! Follow me, I command you!” “Father!” groaned Quintus with growing anguish, “God is my witness, that I would shed every drop of blood in my body for you and for your happiness: only this one thing--I cannot--I cannot....” “You must. By all the gods, but you must! What? My son a traitor--to be the sport and gazing-stock of a cackling crowd, scorned and mocked at as a fool, and condemned to an ignominious death--? You are raving, boy! Come, away from this fetid cell. I command you!” Titus Claudius gazed with agonized enquiry at his son’s pale face, which looked more and more petrified to marble. “I cannot, Father!” That was all the bloodless lips could utter. Then the despairing father fell on his knees and raised his hands in entreaty, like a criminal suing for mercy. Tears streamed down his distorted face, which looked ten years older for that hour’s anguish. He rent his robe, he tore his hair, he struck his forehead against the pavement. In heart-rending accents he implored his son--his only, beloved son, the star and joy of his life, not to make him so miserable--more miserable than ever man had been before in all this grief-stricken and strife-plagued world. He reminded him of the days of his infancy, when he had nursed him in his arms, lived, cared, and toiled only for his boy. And would this child, his Quintus, his all in all, doom him to this hideous fate? The miserable man presented a pitiable sight. “Oh Father,” cried Quintus, gasping for breath. “What have you done? Woe is me, I am a monster! That sacred head in the dust--compose yourself--you are driving me mad! O God, not yet! Father, I will obey you, I am yours henceforth. My soul’s salvation?--I give it up. You shall not suffer for my sake.” Titus Claudius rose. The strong man was trembling like a child. With one passionate cry the father and son were clasped in each other’s arms. FOOTNOTES: [88] THE MAMERTINE PRISON. The state-prison in Rome was the Carcer Mamertinus at the foot of the Capitol--still in existence at the present time. [89] TULLIANUM. A part of the Mamertine Prison, so called after King Servius Tullius, who is said to have built it. The Catilinarians had been executed in the Tullianum.