"Ah ... that's new! And was it successful?" "By Jove! he had a private interview with the Emperor. Oh, people like him have got nine lives! Everything turns to gold in their fingers. When they slough the old skin, they get young again. Learn, my children...." "And what did he manage to say to the Emperor?" "How can I tell?" sighed Garguillus, not without a certain secret jealousy. "He may have said perhaps, 'Cling to Christianity till not a Pagan be left upon earth! The religion of the just is the basis of your throne!' Now his fortune is made; and far more securely than in the time of Julian. What exquisite sagacity!" "Oh, my benefactors, protect me! Snatch Cicumbrix, the humblest of your slaves, from the claws of the lions!" "What's happened?" asked Garguillus of the consumptive shoemaker, who was being dragged off by two of the town police. "They're going to throw me into prison!" "Why?" "For pillaging a church..." "What? You have..." "No, no! I was in the crowd, and I just cried out once or twice 'Beat them!' That was under Augustus Julian. Then they said, 'Cæsar desires that the Christian churches shall be destroyed.' But I didn't go into the church; I stayed outside. My shop is a wretched little place; but it's on a crowded square, and if anything happens I'm always lugged up as a witness. O defend me! Have pity on me!" "Are you a Christian or a Pagan?" asked Julius. "I don't know myself. Before Constantine's time I sacrificed to the gods. Then I was baptised. Then, under Constantius, I became an Arian. Afterwards I had to become a Hellenist. Now I want to be an Arian again; but it's all mixed up in my head! I obey orders, and I never can happen to profess the true religion at the right time. I have fought for Christ, and also for the gods.... But it's always either too soon or too late! One gets no rest.... I have children.... Protect me, benefactors!" "Fear nothing, my friend; we will get you off. I remember you once made me a handsome pair of shoes." Anatolius, unperceived by his friends, now went into the church, desiring to hear Theodorite, the young and celebrated preacher. The sun was shining through clouds of incense, and one of the slanting rays fell on the red beard of the speaker in the pulpit. His frail hands were transparent as wax; his exultant eyes feverishly bright, and his thrilling voice thundered in an avenging cry.