"It is the priests who stirred up this trouble," said one man looking up at the grim grayish-white walls of Jupiter's temple. "I am no follower of Christus, but I employed a man who was, and he was ever industrious and sober. They are not such a bad lot. It is a pity—"

"Whist!" exclaimed another man. "Speak not so loud. Even the walls of yonder temple have ears. They say that there are speaking tubes hidden in every room so that the Superior may know just what goes on. I'll tell you the one thing, my friend, if the priests are in it there's gold somewhere. They don't do things for nothing."

"That they do not. Didst hear that the splendid villa of Octavia, widow of Aureus Cantus, the Senator, was raided by a mob last night? The freedmen are scattered or seized again as slaves and the family, the lady and two children have entirely disappeared. Her home and all its treasures have already been confiscated, as belonging to a traitor and I'll venture that the priests in yonder get a good share of the wealth."

"She was an honorable woman. It is a shame."

"Shame, yes, but it pleases the people and gratifies the priests, two things very essential to him who sits upon the throne."

"Dost think—"

"Aye, I think much that I do not say. Hundreds of Christians have been herded into the prisons, the uprising of the multitude yesterday was but part of the game. It was all planned. They say, too, that a dark man, with great gold rings in his ears and a scar on his face, has been tracking these Christians for weeks. No doubt he was an emissary of the priests."

"I have seen him myself. There he goes, now."

Alyrus walked through the crowd like a king, as if he expected them to bow before him.

"I've seen him before," said the first man. "Where was it? I remember now. It was he who sat in the ante-chamber of Aurelius Lucanus' office. He is his slave."

"And is the honorable lawyer mixed up in this business?"

"Who knows? One thing is certain. The people will be amused and forget the cruelties of the Emperor, for there will be a grand show in the amphitheatre, far grander than any gladiatorial show."

"Thou meanest—"

"That these Christians must be disposed of, or they will rebel. The lions are even now growling in the underground cages."

Lidia sped on, though her feet grew very weary before she reached the cave where Lucius dwelt. He was standing in front of it, blowing into a flame some charcoal in a small iron brazier. She approached him unseen. He looked up, startled when he heard her calling him.

"Ah, Lidia, is it thou? Hast come to have supper with thy father? Thou art welcome. There is a tender kid roasted and I have gathered some fresh greens in the field. I will make thee a salad."

"Please do, dear father. I am very weary and have tasted no food since morning."

Sitting down on the grass, they gave thanks and ate. The shepherd gave her a large plantain leaf for a plate. Their food was such as Jacob ate in days of old, long before Rome was built.

"Thou art very weary, my child."

"And heart-sick. Thou hast not been in the city for two days."

"No. The rains have been so heavy that the sprinkling from my sheepskin bag was not needed. So I stayed here to care for the herds."

"Then thou dost not know what has happened. Father, my master and the Lady Claudia are in deep distress. Martius and the Lady Virgilia went to visit the widow of Cantus outside the gate, on the day when the Feast of the Grapes was celebrated. They have never returned. Nor has Alyrus, who was sent on an errand by Aurelius that afternoon, nor Alexis, the Greek. Not one has come back to tell of their fate. This morning, Sahira, my Lady Claudia's waiting-maid disappeared and the mistress lies there moaning and crying. It is pitiful. Everyone is in disorder of spirit. I, even though I am but a scullery-maid, did creep into my Lady's room and put cold cloths on her head and fanned her face. No one else thought of her. The servants go here and there, without a head; the whole house is in confusion. Some of the slaves have already run away. It is rumored, father, that many Christians have been arrested. No doubt Martius and Virgilia are among them."

"But thou?"

"I am safe. Who cares for so humble a person as I? The Old One is very ill. I think she is going to die. No one cares for her but me. But I am safe. No one notices me, for I am little and ugly, thank God. I soothe the Old One, who moans and cries: 'Woe. Woe! to this household,' I must go back now. It is but four and twenty hours, father, since the home of Aurelius was full of joy and gladness. Now it is desolate."

The shepherd rose and picked up his staff.

"Lidia, it is Alyrus who has wrought all this. He and the priests of Jupiter. I will seek out Lycias, the gladiator. He will know what to do."

A warm red shone in Lidia's thin, sallow cheeks.

"Thou wilt greet him from me, father?"

He nodded, and walked rapidly away, while Lidia, taking another path, ran toward the gates of Rome. Inside the walls, she almost collided with Alyrus, the Moor, who strode by not recognizing her. Slipping along in the shadows, she followed him eagerly, as intently as her father would have done, through the streets, into the Forum to the Temple of Jupiter, and saw him enter the side door.

Then she hastened back to her duties, going into the house which was very still and deserted. Only a few of the many slaves owned by Aurelius the lawyer, remained to guard his interests. When the displeasure of an emperor falls on a man, it means disaster.

She looked in at her mistress' door and found her sleeping, moaning as she slept. She went to the servant's quarters. On her humble couch lay the Old One, who had been a Princess in the court of Herod sixty years before, beautiful, admired. Her face was very quiet and the expression was sweet. Death had touched her lightly when he bore her into the presence of the Lord whom she had loved. The finished rug which she had made for Virgilia's wedding present lay under the scarlet and white awning on the Terrace.

Alyrus had come into his reward. He was free, and Sahira his daughter was free, a purse of gold was in his hand and a ship lay waiting in the harbor, to carry them away to their home by the desert.

Alyrus was not ready to go, yet. He wanted first to see all the amusement which there would be in Rome. He could not miss the climax of what he had intrigued for. He knew nothing of that Judas who had sold his Lord for thirty pieces of silver, or he might have likened himself to this traitor.

No, he would not leave until the games were over. The scheme had worked well. There had not been the slightest hitch from the moment that they left the gate of Octavia's villa, until the bearers, who were in the plot, carried Virgilia into the Temple of Jupiter, and Martius and Alexis, little noticed in the unusual excitement stirred up by the priests, were easily overpowered and cast into one of the lowest dungeons.

Yes, it had been most successful. Alyrus returned to the temple now to see Sahira who was in charge of the holy women and sallied forth again to sit in one of the shops and drink a glass of grape juice. He was a thoroughly temperate man, knowing that wine muddles the brain and perverts the judgment.

It was now late in the evening. Proclamations were already on the walls announcing that on the fourth day, there would be grand games in the Circus. Gladiatorial contests would be the first thing on the program, followed by the lions and Christians. The learned ones were reading this notice aloud to the ignorant and the women, and all seemed to be much pleased.

Alyrus sat down and ordered his cup of fresh grape juice, with snow from Mt. Hermon to cool it in. As he sipped it, he saw the great gladiator, Lycias, come into the circle of light from the flaring torches, but he did not perceive the shepherd, who remained outside, in the shadow.

Now, Lycias was a great man in the eyes of the Romans. He had been a poor boy, but by reason of his strength had risen to be the first gladiator. He and Lidia the kitchen-maid, had grown up together in the cave of Lucius, for Lycias had been found, a tiny baby, lying at the door of the sheepfold. For the love and care bestowed upon him, Lycias had always been grateful.

Therefore, at the request of Lucius, was he here.

At the entrance of the famous gladiator, a shout arose from the men seated at the small tables.

"Hail, Lycias! Hail, Lycias!" came from every side.

The tall man bowed to one friend and then another, smiled and walked through the room, seeking a place to sit. With a smile, he declined proffered seats with groups of men, and finally took a place near Alyrus, the Moor.

"If it does not inconvenience you," he said.

"Not in the least," replied Alyrus, flattered at the attention thus drawn to him.

The gladiator laid aside his silver helmet, unloosed his short sword and ordered light refreshment from the proprietor who came himself to serve so noted a guest.

Had some great philosopher entered, he would have been greeted with respect but would not have aroused anything like so much interest or enthusiasm as did the victorious gladiator. Even the boys in the streets knew his name and tried to imitate him.

For some time, while he had satisfied a very hearty appetite, Lycias did not open a conversation, and Alyrus, a little awed, had hesitated to speak.

Apparently for the first time, the gladiator examined the Moor's face.

Springing to his feet, he saluted in a military fashion.

"Your pardon, my lord, I knew not that I had ventured to presume upon the kindness of Claudius Auranus, governor of Carthage."

Alyrus stammered.

"Be seated, sir, I—I am not his excellency the governor of Carthage. I am a much humbler man, a chieftain of Tripoli."

"Ah! I knew that you were some distinguished person, from your bearing and dress."

When Alyrus smiled, he was uglier than ever.

"A brute!" muttered Lycias, under his breath. Then aloud: "Are you on some mission to the Emperor?"

"Ahem. Not so. But very high in the secrets of the chief priest of Jupiter."

"One might call him the power behind the throne."

"Thou hast said truly."

"And it is really true that thou art admitted to those holy precincts?"

"Behold!" Alyrus drew from the folds of his garment the bronze lizard. "Not only does this admit me to the temple itself but to any place in the city of Rome. Thou seest. It is the symbol of the priests of Jupiter."

"I see," Lycias' eyes gleamed, as he watched Alyrus placing the precious symbol in a safe place.

Then, Alyrus, intoxicated by the events of the past few moments, by his sudden transition from slavery to freedom, at the prospect opening before him of a speedy return to the home he loved, flattered at the homage shown him by the gladiator, poured out the whole story into ears only too willing to hear. He narrated everything except that he had been a slave, representing himself as a client of Aurelius Lucanus, who had been grievously wronged by him. He told how he had discovered, one day in the public Forum, that the son and daughter of the lawyer were Christians, and Aurelius sympathized with them; how, by the chief priest's desire, he had assisted in tracking many more of the despised sect, of whom several hundred were now languishing in prison, among them, Octavia the widow of the proud Senator Aureus Cantus, and her son and daughter.

Lycias passed his big hand over his smoothly shaven face to hide his expression of disgust. He rose.

"If you permit, honored sir, I will now retire, with the hope that we shall meet again."

"Willingly will I continue the conversation. Perhaps—" Alyrus was swelling with importance, "it would interest you to visit the prisons and see these Christians before they are thrown into the arena. I understand that you are first on the program."

"Yes. I had thought of asking such a privilege as a visit to these prisoners. By the way, where is the daughter of Aurelius?"

Alyrus shot a keen glance at him, but the face of Lycias was guileless as that of a child.

"She is well guarded. I can tell you that, and her brother Martius, with Alexis the Greek slave—who ever looked down upon me," he added, unguardedly, continuing in haste, as he perceived his mistake, "I should have said, who was impertinent to me one day, lie in a dungeon far in the earth below the temple. From there, is a private underground passageway to the Circus. They will never see the light of day again."

"A faithless friend, a bitter enemy," was Lycias' thought as striding forth from the room, he joined Lucius.

"It is worse than I feared," Lucius said. "There is little hope."

"We shall see," responded the gladiator, thoughtfully. "Art thou willing to take great risks to save the son and daughter of Aurelius?"

"For the sake of Lidia, who loves them, I am."

"Await my instructions, then," and they parted.

The next afternoon, Alyrus let Lycias through the dark prisons in which the Christians were herded like beasts. The guards opened every door at the sight of the symbol of priestly authority, the bronze lizard.

Lycias, brave and strong man, grew sick at the dreadful suffering of delicate women, frail young girls accustomed to luxury, who were so suddenly thrown into surroundings and as they had never dreamed of.

All because of their faith? Lycias began to wonder what the power was which enabled these feeble creatures to face death with calmness and courage.

"There must be something in this religion of Jesus Christ which makes them forget themselves," he thought. "I will ask Lidia to tell me the secret."

In one corner of a dark, damp cell, several persons were kneeling in prayer. The voice of an old man could be heard, petitioning God, for Christ's sake, to lead them through this valley of the shadow of death and bring them to the holy city in its beauty and into the presence of their Lord and Master.

"There, that is Virgilia, the fair one, yonder, with face upraised," said Alyrus.

Lycias took a long look at the young girl, so that he would know her again.

"Next to her is Hermione, and Octavia, widow of Aureus Cantus and her son. All three are there!"

The laugh of the Moor was hideous in its coarseness. The young girls shivered and drew closer to Octavia.

"Fear not," Octavia whispered, smiling at them. God had given her great courage.

It was on this day that Alyrus, growing more confidential, told Lycias of the vessel lying in the River Tiber, ready to set sail as soon as he and Sahira went on board.

"I have only to show them the symbol," he quoted, "and the sailors and officers are subject to my orders."

That evening, the gladiator went to the cave, and finding Lidia with her father, ate the supper of coarse bread and goat's cheese with them.

"Thou art accounted of much wisdom," he said to Lidia, "thy little head hath been ever steady on thy shoulders. Tell us what to do."

"I am only a kitchen-maid," Lidia replied, blushing at the compliment, "but I should think that we might do thus."

And a plan was made to their satisfaction, a very difficult plan involving great danger for all of them, perhaps death to Lycias and Lucius. It hung to a large degree on one thing which seemed to be unattainable.

"With God, all things are possible," said wise little Lidia.

"Let us pray," said the shepherd, and he and Lidia fell upon their knees on the grass in front of the cave, where even now in late Autumn, some tiny pink-tipped daisies were blooming.

After a moment's hesitation, Lycias, who had never knelt to any but heathen gods, bent his knee also and uncovered his head in the presence of the unseen but powerful Ruler of the Universe.

He and Lidia walked back to Rome together.

As they parted, the big gladiator looked down into her earnest little face, with the clear, honest eyes.

"I should like to learn about Christ," he said.

"I will teach thee, Lycias, though I am but a weak follower of my Master."

The next day, the one before the games were to take place in the Circus, two things happened.

Alyrus, met again by Lycias, took him to the marble quarry by the Tiber, where, on the slowly flowing river, were moored great ships. There was a veritable forest of masts, cut from the strong cedars of Lebanon, and the groves of Mt. Hermon.

"That is my ship, yonder," he said. As they emerged from the wharf, Alyrus was suddenly jostled by a rough-looking shepherd. Lycias caught the Moor in his arms to prevent his falling. The draperies Alyrus wore were disarranged and a small object fell, unnoticed by him, to the ground. Lycias placed his big, sandaled foot over this object.

"Dog of a shepherd!" raved Alyrus, running after the man.

Lycias stooped, picked up the small object and thrust it into his gown and soon reached the Moor by a few long strides.

"Let him go!" he advised. "See, he is already almost out of sight."



VIII.

THE SYMBOL OF THE LIZARD.

The games in the amphitheatre on this, the first day of November attracted an unusual number of persons.

The emperor was there, with all his court, and the Vestals honored the games with their presence. Alyrus sat in a prominent place, with Sahira, former slave of Aurelius Lucanus and maid to Claudia, beside him. The dark-faced girl attracted much attention, so great was her beauty. Freed by special decree of Caesar, at the request of Lycidon, the priest, she had, by her father's desire been dressed like a fashionable girl of the period.

"Dost see them coming?" asked Alyrus, eagerly. "Thine eyes are younger than mine. Dost see them yet?"

"No, father. It is only the gladiators. Ah! that Lycias is a king among men! how strong! how noble!"

A shade passed over the face of Alyrus the Moor.

"Yes. A fine youth, yet—I wish that I had not lost that bronze lizard, Sahira. It bodes misfortune. Rome is not a safe place for us, in spite of the favor of Lycidon. We must go as soon as the games are over. Could it be possible that Lycias—"

"Look, father, see Lycias, the conqueror. The emperor smiles upon him; a lady has thrown him a jewel. He bows. He is gone. How proud he must be!"

"And now, they will come! See, yonder, Sahira, that group of white- robed men and women. Ha! hear the wild beasts, how they growl in their cages, pawing the bars, pleading to be let loose."

Alyrus, wild with gratified hatred, his face as evil as that of a demon, leaned far over that he might lose nothing of the pitiful drama about to be enacted in the arena.

The Christians came forward slowly, the women clinging together in their physical weakness, though their souls were strong in the strength of their faith.

There was Octavia, leading Hermione and Virgilia. The widow's face was bright with a great light. There was Martius almost blinded by the contrast between the terrible darkness of the dungeon beneath Jupiter's temple, where he had spent four days and nights of misery, frantic when he thought of Virgilia and what her fate might be. He and Alexis had only a half hour before been brought through the underground passage-way to the cells where the Christians were waiting. He and Virgilia met here, on the sanded arena, where thousands of persons were gazing at them. Martius stepped to his sister's side, and put his arm around her. He stretched out his hand to clasp that of Hermione.

"We shall meet again, yonder," he whispered, glancing upward.

Now, just as they were being pushed into the arena, a strange thing had happened. A tall man, whom Martius had not recognized as Lycias, the gladiator, approached him and said: "In the arena, I will be near you, standing by one of the gates. If you can be calm enough in the moment of excitement, note where I am. When I give the signal, take your sister in your arms and follow me."

He had said the same to Marcus, telling him to assist Octavia and Hermione and bear them forth.

"Fear not," the stranger had said. "If your God has power, he will save you all out of the lion's mouth."

Opening from the arena were several iron gates. Some of these served as entrances to the prisons or cells, where the Christians had been kept until the moment when they were commanded to come forth and perform their part in amusing the wicked emperor and his impious people. Others, four in number, were the entrances to passageways leading to the open air. There were used by the gladiators and by the employees whose duty it was to arrange the "scenery."

Each gate was guarded, in the arena and at the outer exit, by a soldier, well armed.

It was by one of these open gates that Martius and Marcus obeying the words of the gladiator, eager to seize any chance of escape, kept the women.

The shouts of the multitude arose. "The Christians! The Christians! To the lions!"

It was then that Alyrus shrank back and a deadly fear seized him. What had he done? What had he done? He remembered past kindnesses. He remembered how Sahira had been saved from a life of sorrow and shame by Aurelius Lucanus. How had he repaid him? By treachery and evil. For the first time in his life, Alyrus was conscious of sin. The Christian's God! Who was He? Could he avenge? A horrible coldness enveloped him. He could not move. Then he knew nothing more.

But Sahira, not noticing that her father was ill, was looking down at the white group, now kneeling on the ground, while the white-haired elder prayed, with arms up-raised.

There was another shout.

Martius who had never felt cooler in his life, saw Lycias and touched Marcus on the arm.

"Come," he said. "We are not far from the entrance. Quick!"

Martius seized Virgilia in his arms; Marcus led his mother and Hermione.

It was but a step, a moment and they were by the side of Lycias. Hermione was fainting. The gladiator lifted her as easily as if she were a child.

"Follow me," said Lycias, striding before them.

Dazed, scarcely knowing where they were or what they were doing, the women, clinging to the men; walked along the narrow way. In the circus, there were more shouts and cries. Hermione trembled in the strong arms of Lycias. He soothed her gently.

"Pray to your God," he said, "that He may bring us safely through."

"Who are you?"

"I am Lycias, a friend of Christians, and I, too would learn of the faith."

One great danger lay before them. It was the guard at the outer doorway, which opened on the street. He opposed their exit.

"No one passes here," he said.

"No one except me and my friends," responded the gladiator, boldly. "Dare you say to Lycias that he may not pass?"

The soldier's face relaxed, but still he stood in the path.

"To-day, I have specially strict orders lest some of the Christians escape. For my part, I would willingly let some of those poor creatures flee, but I value my head."

"Perhaps thou wilt not gainsay me when thou seest my pass."

Lycias held up the bronze lizard. Really, the big gladiator himself doubted the power of this symbol. He began to fear that they would all be forced back into the arena, which was sure death, not only for those whom he wished to save, but for himself, also. He would receive no mercy, even though he had been the idol of the people but an hour before and the air had rung with his praises. It would count him little, if he were caught helping the victims to escape.

The soldier looked at him with staring eyes.

"The symbol of the chief-priest," he whispered. "In the name of Jupiter, go by in peace, and may his wrath not fall upon me and mine."

A few paces more, and the light of air of the blessed day bathed them in warmth and gave them courage.

The gladiator set Hermione on her feet and wiped his dripping forehead.

"Barely escaped," he muttered.

No one was in this part of the street by the amphitheatre. All the interest was in the interior. So great had been the number of Christians that Octavia and the others in this little group had not been missed.

Where they were going, they knew not; but that, for the moment, they were safe, they all thankfully realized and that they owed it to this big stranger with the honest face.

"Let us, for one moment, thank God for our deliverance," said Octavia.

Not daring to kneel, they turned their faces toward Heaven while Octavia breathed forth a fervent prayer.

"We must hurry," said Lycias, leading the way to the Forum, to-day deserted for the greater amusements of the games, in which the Christians were the chief attraction.

It was a long, hard walk to the marble wharf where the ship lay on which Alyrus and his daughter were soon to set sail, as Lycias well knew. His great fear was lest the Moor might have decided to go earlier and not wait for the conclusion of the games. Suppose they arrived at the wharf and found the ship gone? What should they do?

Lycias' brain studied this problem. All these people were homeless, except the shepherd. Ah! that was it! If the ship had sailed, he would take these delicately nurtured women to the cave on the Campagna.

It grew necessary for the men to help the women, who were very weary and weak from excitement; although Lycias did not wish to call any more attention to them than was necessary, for fear that the ladies, especially Octavia, who was well known, might be recognized. All the Romans had not gone to the Circus, some were sitting in the eating- places, and women were knitting in the doorways. Fortunately, it was getting toward evening, but that would be a signal for the thousands to leave the amphitheatre and scatter to their homes.

There was need for haste.

They approached the shores of the Tiber, turned into gold by the sunlight from the setting sun. The masts were visible now.

Lycias gave a sigh of satisfaction as he saw, sitting on a grassy bank a man and a woman, who was heavily veiled. Standing beside them was a slender girl. It was Lidia, the daughter of the shepherd, who sprang forward and put her arms around her father's neck, while great tears of happiness rolled down her cheeks.

"At last! at last! thou art come. Thanks be to our God."

It had not been a difficult matter for the little scullery-maid to persuade the lawyer to venture upon a scheme as bold as it was doubtful in its outcome. Aurelius Lucanus was a broken man. He had lost his children. He had not known how dear they were to him until they disappeared. What mattered it if they were followers of Christians, members of a despised sect? They were his own, and he loved them. His business was ruined, his home deserted, the emperor no longer looked on him with favor. All was gone.

In the room near by, Claudia lay weeping. She, too, was broken- hearted. Her daughter, her ambitions, all those things which formed her life had vanished as suddenly as the dew dries upon the green grass in midsummer.

The lawyer was sitting in the garden. Bright yellow and scarlet dahlias bloomed around him; plumy lavender and rose colored asters nodded cheerfully in the chill breeze of this first of November. The water in the fountain rippled as musically as in those happy days, now gone.

That morning early, Aurelius had gone again to the Senator Adrian Soderus, to whom Virgilia had so cruelly been betrothed. It was a sign that no longer was the lawyer held in high esteem, when he was kept waiting in the outer chamber, and a message was brought him by a young slave that the Senator could no longer receive him. He would have no dealings with the parents of Christians.

Then he, too, knew their disgrace. It must have been noised—abroad in the city. Aurelius hurried home and sitting down where Claudia had rested, looking so beautiful, on her return from the amphitheatre on the Spring day which seemed so long ago, he buried his face in his hands.

An awful fear haunted him. To-day had been fixed for the games. Could it be possible that Virgilia, so fair, so delicate, shielded all her life from the rough and hard things, protected and loved, was among those Christians whom Caesar had, in his cruelty, doomed to death?

And Martius, where was he?

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and looked up with dull eyes, clouded with misery and loneliness, into the dark, sallow face of the kitchen-maid, whom he had never noticed before until he saw her tenderly ministering to his wife.

In a few concise sentences, she told him all.

Virgilia and Martius were to be sacrificed, with hundreds of other Christians that afternoon. It was known that Octavia, and her children were also condemned. Lycias, the gladiator, would try to save them. Perhaps he could succeed; there was a little hope. In any case, he would try. Aurelius and Claudia, with herself, would go to a quiet place near the marble quarry, and wait for them. If they did not come, all was lost, and there remained nothing but to return to this house. If they came, there was a chance of escape for them all. She told him of the ship belonging to Alyrus, his porter, now a freedman. It was he who had wrought the mischief. If possible—God only knew!—they would all sail away together. Whither, who could tell? Away from Rome, away from all this trouble and sorrow.

Lidia possessed a lovely voice, thrilling sweet. As she talked, the lawyer's brain cleared. He was more himself than he had been since the children had disappeared. Now, he knew the worst. Sometimes certainty, even though bad, is better than the agony of suspense. There was a chance, and if they escaped—a thought came to him.

"Thou wilt dress thy Lady."

Lidia nodded.

"And gather together the jewels. Bring the diadem sent by the emperor to Virgilia and the necklace, the gift of Adrian."

Even in his anguish of soul, the lawyer smiled, grimly. When the Senator sent to reclaim his valuable gift, he would not find it. At least, he would have contributed that much to Virgilia's future happiness. His wealth was so great that he would not miss the game.

"I will gather together all the jewels, my master, also those of the Lady Claudia, and will hide them in my bosom. No one will imagine that the kitchen-maid carries such treasures."

"A quick-witted girl," muttered Aurelius, "and now for my part. If the gods please, they will escape, and we shall be happy again. If not— then we will never return to this house."

It took him until noon to examine the papers in his strong-box. Three of the documents he placed in his toga. The others, he burned.

It was a long and difficult matter to bring the Lady Claudia, in her weakness, to the place agreed upon. Here, they waited, while the sun, burning hot in Rome even in October, beat upon them pitilessly, for there was no shade here.

The whole story had not been told Claudia, who was saved that suffering. She knew, only, that they were to set sail in a ship and leave this city where she had been so happy. She was utterly apathetic, caring nothing where they went.

Losing hope, as time passed, Aurelius grew more and more silent. Even Lidia began to fear that the worst had happened. The sun sank and the vessels were shrouded in shadow. No sound was heard save the monotonous singing of a sailor, or the creaking of a sail.

Then around the corner came the forlorn little group, and Lidia threw herself in her father's arms, while her eyes sought Lycias, who smiled at her.

The rest was easy. The bronze lizard worked like magic. No one inquired where was the dark man with the gold rings in his ears. The vessel had been chartered and paid for by the priest of Jupiter. The orders were to sail, when the symbol was shown them. As the tide was high and the wind fresh, the sails were raised and just as the people were swarming out of the Circus, just when the Emperor in his golden chair, was being carried to his marble palace, the fugitives, scarcely knowing where they were and not caring whither they should go, sat on the deck, breathed in the cool air of life, watched the stars come out, one by one, and thanked God for delivering them out of the mouth of the lion.

Day after day they sailed over a blue sea, where the waves danced and broke into froth, which in its turn, dissolved into a million jewel-points of colors as brilliant as those flashed by the diamonds in Virgilia's diadem, the gift of the emperor.

Among the papers brought away by the lawyer was the deed of a small villa on the Island of Cyprus. It had belonged to his father and a revenue was received each year from the steward who cultivated the vineyard.

To Cyprus, the vessel went, landing there a fortnight later, for the winds had been favorable, and they had made a quick voyage.

On the broad terraces, commanding a view of the sea, with passing vessels, Claudia lay on a couch, daily gaining strength. She held Virgilia's hand as if she could never let it go, while the young girl told her of Jesus and His love, and read to her the precious letter of Paul, the Apostle, a copy of which Martius had made in the days of his exile.

Here, they heard of the martyrdom of the Apostle, and his burial in the vineyard of Lucia, the Roman matron. He had "finished his course" and "kept the faith," and had gone to receive his "crown of righteousness."

As the days passed, peace and happiness came to them all. The gladiator, forgetting his prowess in the arena, worked diligently in the vineyard, while Lucius guarded the flocks of sheep, grazing beneath the light-green olive-trees. And Lidia cooked for them in a small stone cottage, singing as she worked.

Martius and Marcus, grown to be men, worked also, and when the labors of the day were over, sat on the terrace in the moonlight, while Hermione and Virgilia talked with them, and Claudia and Octavia smiled at their happiness.

One thing, they did not know; that Alyrus, the Moor, justly punished for his misdeeds, never spoke again after the games in the Circus. He died soon afterward. Sahira, robbed of her freedom by the jealousy of a woman high in favor in the imperial court, who envied her beauty and the favor of the emperor, sank again into slavery, and as the years passed, became a drudge in the palace.

When the sun crept lower to the waves of the sea, and as the darkness shrouded all nature, young and old knelt on the terrace and prayed that God would keep them safe.

And Aurelius, the lawyer, with Claudia, his wife, knelt also, for there were no statues of the gods in this home set among the trailing festoons of the vineyard on the Island of Cyprus.

[FINIS.]