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Updated: June 27, 2025
The person spoken to applied his mouth to Agellius’s ear, and uttered lowly several sacred names. Agellius would have started up had he been strong enough; he could but sink down upon his rushes in agitation. “Be content to know no more at present,” said the stranger, “praise God, as I do. You know enough for your present strength. It is your act of obedience for the day.”
I will leave you to speak for yourself, and meanwhile will go and see what old Dromo has to tell, before the sun is too high in the heavens.” Saying this, with a half-imploring, half-satirical look at his sister, he set off to the barber’s at the Forum. Agellius took up the flowers, and laid them on the table before her, as she sat at work. “Do you accept my flowers, Callista?” he asked.
“Then you fear the fire of judgment,” said Cæcilius; “you’d put off baptism for fear of that fire.” “I did not say I would,” answered Agellius; “I wanted you to explain the thing to me.” “Which would you rather, Agellius, be without God here, or suffer the fire there?” Agellius smiled; he said faintly, “I take Him for my portion here and there: He will be in the fire with me.”
I have brought her a present of flowers; they are my best present, or rather not mine, but the birth of the opening year, as fair and fragrant as herself.” “We will offer them to our Pallas Athene,” said his friend, “to whom we artists are especially devout.” And he would have led Agellius on, and made him place them in her niche in the opposite wall.
It will be a trying time, but my hour is not yet come. I am good for years yet; so are you, for many more than mine. He will protect and rescue me, though I know not how. Go, leave me to myself, Agellius!”
“Hm!” exclaimed Jucundus, making a wry face and looking round at him, as if to say, “What on earth is going to turn up now?” “To tell the truth,” said Juba, gloomily, “I did once think of her myself. I don’t see why I have not as much right to do so as Agellius, if I please.
I won’t give an account of my actions to any one, God or man, devil or priest, much less to you. What right have you to ask me?” “Then,” said Agellius, “you’ll never get peace or comfort as long as you live, that I can tell you, let alone the life to come.”
“That was my weakness,” answered Juba; “it was a weak moment: it was just after the old bishop’s death. He had been kind to me as a child; and he said some womanish words to me, and it was excusable in me.” “Oh that you had yielded to your wish!” cried Agellius. Juba looked superior. “The fit passed,” he said. “I have come to a juster view of things.
Callista’s mad; Agellius is mad; Juba is mad; and Strabo was mad;—but it was his wife, old Gurta, that drove him mad;—and there, I think, is the beginning of our troubles.——Come in! come in, Cornelius!” he cried, seeing his Roman friend outside, and relapsing for the moment into his lugubrious tone; “Come in, Cornelius, and give us some comfort, if you can. Well, this is like a friend!
“Ay, ay,” answered Firmian, “but the Christians came from Egypt: and as cook there is the son of cook, and soldier is son of soldier, so Christian, take my word for it, is the son of a Christian.” “Christians boast, I believe,” answered Agellius, “that they are of no one race or country, but are members of a large unpatriotic family, whose home is in the sky.”
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