uth and the gospel in exchange for your broken idol."

The Emperor laughed. "You will do nothing with him, Emilius," he said.
"I know his breed of old. He is ready to die; he says so himself. Why
save him, then?"

But the Patrician still hesitated. He would make a last effort.

"Throw off his bonds," he said to the guards. "Now take the furca off
his neck. So! Now, Datus, I have released you to show you that I trust
you. I have no wish to do you any hurt if you will but acknowledge your
error, and so set a better example to my household here assembled."

"How, then, shall I acknowledge my error?" the slave asked.

"Bow your head before the goddess, and entreat her forgiveness for the
violence you have done her. Then perhaps you may gain my pardon as
well."

"Put me, then, before her," said the Christian.

Emilius Flaccus looked triumphantly at Domitian. By kindness and tact he
was effecting that which the Emperor had failed to do by violence. Datus
walked in front of the mutilated Venus. Then with a sudden spring he
tore the baton out of the hand of one of his guardians, leaped upon the
pedestal, and showered his blows upon the lovely marble woman. With a
crack and a dull thud her right arm dropped to the ground. Another
fierce blow and the left had followed. Flaccus danced and screamed with
horror, while his servants dragged the raving iconoclast from his
impassive victim. Domitian's brutal laughter echoed through the hall.

"Well, friend, what think you now?" he cried. "Are you wiser than your
Emperor? Can you indeed tame your Christian with kindness?"

Emilius Flaccus wiped the sweat from his brow. "He is yours, great
Caesar. Do with him as you will."

"Let him be at the gladiators' entrance of the circus an hour before the
games begin," said the Emperor. "Now, Emilius, the night has been a
merry one. My Ligurian galley waits by the river quay. Come, cool your
head with a spin to Ostia ere the business of State calls you to the
Senate."

VIII

GIANT MAXIMIN

I: THE COMING OF GIANT MAXIMIN

Many are the strange vicissitudes of history. Greatness has often sunk
to the dust, and has tempered itself to its new surrounding. Smallness
has risen aloft, has flourished for a time, and then has sunk once more.
Rich monarchs have become poor monks, brave conquerors have lost their
manhood, eunuchs and women have overthrown armies and kingdoms. Surely
there is no situation which the mind of man could inv