pious legends which
nineteen centuries of Catholicism have suspended at all the corners of
Rome and its surrounding districts. He recalled the touching story of St.
Peter flying from persecution and meeting our Lord: "Lord, whither art
thou going?" asked the apostle. "To be crucified a second time," replied
the Saviour, and Peter was ashamed of his weakness and returned to
martyrdom. Montfanon himself had related that episode to the novelist,
who again began to reflect upon the Marquis's character and the best
means of approaching him. He forgot to glance at the vast solitude of the
Roman suburbs before him, and so deep was his reverie that he almost
passed unheeded the object of his search. Another disappointment awaited
him at the first point in his voyage of exploration.

The monk who came at his ring to open the door of the inclosure
contiguous to St. Calixtus, informed him that he of whom he was in search
had left half an hour before.

"You will find him at the Basilica of Saint Neree and Saint Achilles,"
added the Trappist; "it is the fete of those two saints, and at five
o'clock there will be a procession in their catacombs.... It is a fifteen
minutes' ride from here, near the tower Marancia, on the Via Ardeatina."

"Shall I miss him a third time?" thought Dorsenne, alighting from the
carriage finally, and proceeding on foot to the opening which leads to
the subterranean Necropolis dedicated to the two saints who were the
eunuchs of Domitilla, the niece of Emperor Vespasian. A few ruins and a
dilapidated house alone mark the spot where once stood the pious
Princess's magnificent villa. The gate was open, and, meeting no one who
could direct him, the young man took several steps in the subterranean
passage. He perceived that the long gallery was lighted. He entered
there, saying to himself that the row of tapers, lighted every ten paces,
assuredly marked the line which the procession would follow, and which
led to the central basilica. Although his anxiety as to the issue of his
undertaking was extreme, he could not help being impressed by the
grandeur of the sight presented by the catacomb thus illuminated. The
uneven niches reserved for the dead, asleep in the peace of the Lord for
so many centuries, made recesses in the corridors and gave them a solemn
and tragical aspect. Inscriptions were to be seen there, traced on the
stone, and all spoke of the great hope which those first Christians had
cherished, the