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Updated: June 4, 2025
Desert, if you will, the majestic, bright, beneficent traditions of your forefathers, and live in this frightful superstition! Farewell!” He did not seem better pleased with Aristo than with Callista, though Aristo helped him into his litter, walked by his side, and did what he could to propitiate him.
Listen to reason.” But Callista would not listen to reason, if her brother was its embodiment; but went on with her singing:— “For what is Afric but the home Of burning Phlegethon?
“Such as this,” answered Callista. “Nothing will ever make me believe that all my people have gone and will go to an eternal Tartarus.” “Had we not better confine ourselves to something more specific, more tangible?” asked Cæcilius, gravely. “I suppose if one individual may have that terrible lot, another may—both may, many may.
People get to like the darkness of the extreme north in course of time. The painted Britons, the Cimmerians, the Hyperboreans, are content never to see the sun at all, which is your god. Here your own god reigns; why quarrel with him?” “The sun of Greece is light,” answered Callista; “the sun of Africa is fire. I am no fire-worshipper.”
“Don’t sneer at that Anubis,” said his uncle; “it is the work of the divine Callista.” “That, I suppose, is why she brings into existence so many demons,” answered Juba; “nothing more can be done in the divine line; like the queen who fell in love with a baboon.” “Now I come to think,” retorted Jucundus, “that god of hers is something like you. She must be in love with you, Juba.”
Callista was surrendered, but the fellow, sullen at the usage he had met with, and spiteful against Calphurnius, as the cause of it, cried out maliciously, “Mind what you are at, noble sir, it’s not our affair; you can fry your own garlic. But an Emperor is an Emperor, and an Edict is an Edict, and a Christian is a Christian; and I don’t know what high places will say to it, but it’s your affair.
Of course, he had joined himself to his sect, and he should never see him again; and how should he ever hold up his head? Well, he only hoped Agellius would not be boiled in a caldron, or roasted at a slow fire. If this were done, he positively must leave Sicca, and the most thriving trade which any man had in the whole of the Proconsulate. And then that little Callista!
He would be led into the amphitheatre, as his betters had been led before him; the crowds would yell, and the lion would be let loose upon him. He would confront the edict, tear it down, be seized by the apparitor, and hurried to the rack or the slow fire. Callista would hear of it, and would learn at length he was not quite the craven and the recreant which she thought him.
"Why this should have occasioned a permanent disuse of the spot I could not understand, and as every one who conversed on this topic invariably gave the impression of saying less than the subject demanded, my curiosity soon became too much for me and I attacked Miss Callista once again in regard to it.
“Callista in prison!” cried Agellius with surprise and distress, “what do you mean, Jucundus?” “Yes, it’s a fact; Callista is in prison,” answered he, “and on suspicion of Christianity.” “Callista! Christianity!” said Agellius, bewildered, “do I hear aright? She a Christian! oh, impossible, uncle! you don’t mean to say that she is in prison.
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