a few steps forward and slowly dropped
on his knees right against the table, his clasped hands resting on the
cloth, his forehead buried in his hands.

The man had listened to him silently and patiently with, in his heart,
that subtle understanding for another's sorrow, which his own mission
had instilled into him. And thus understanding he went up to that end of
the table where knelt the rich and mighty praefect of Rome, the friend
of Caesar, all-powerful in the land, with burning head buried in his
hands, and eyes from which despite his will hot tears gushed up that
would not be suppressed.

He placed a kindly hand on the bowed shoulder of his friend.

"Wilt tell me what troubles thee?" he said gently.

Taurus Antinor passed his hand across his forehead as if to chase away
the brain-searing thoughts. He raised himself from his knees and
gratefully pressed the hand that had recalled him to himself.

"Nay, friend," he said, "I'll not do that. Thy friendship is too
precious a guerdon that I should jeopardise it by showing thee the
blackness of my soul."

"Dost talk at random," said the other firmly; "my friendship doth not
come and go like fleeting sunshine on a winter's day. I gave it thee on
that self-same unforgettable day when I saw thee standing alone upon the
hill after the crowd had departed and we who loved Him were lifting Him
down from His Cross."

"Thou didst take pity then on my loneliness."

"I saw in thee one who had faith," said the man simply. "I grasped thy
hand in friendship then, not knowing who thou wast. When I knew, then
did I follow thee to Rome, for I needed thy help. My Master sent me
here. I do His work that He did enjoin on all His disciples. Thy
protection and friendship, O mighty praefect of Rome, hath been an
infinite help to me. Thy kindness and charity hath saved from want the
many humble followers of Christ who have been forced to give up all for
His sake. Therefore whatever doth burden thy soul now, I pray thee share
it with me, so that I might bear it with thee and mayhap ease thy load."

"May God bless thee for these words."

"And thy burden, friend?"

"Ask not to share it--'tis one of treachery."

"Of treachery?... Whose treachery?..."

"Mine."

"Thine?... I'll not believe it.... Thou a traitor ... against Caesar?"

"No."

"Against whom, then?"

"Against Him Whose death I witnessed seven years ago."

"Then I'll not believe it. And 'tis sacrilege thus to jest."