of Christians and stop their mouths."

"Fire will stop them, O divinity."

"Woe is me!" groaned Chilo.

But Caesar, to whom the insolent confidence of Tigellinus gave courage,
began to laugh, and said, pointing to the old Greek,--

"See how the descendant of Achilles looks!"

Indeed Chilo looked terribly. The remnant of hair on his head had grown
white; on his face was fixed an expression of some immense dread, alarm,
and oppression. He seemed at times, too, as if stunned and only half
conscious. Often he gave no answer to questions; then again he fell
into anger, and became so insolent that the Augustians preferred not to
attack him. Such a moment had come to him then.

"Do what ye like with me, but I will not go to the games!" cried he, in
desperation.

Nero looked at him for a while, and, turning to Tigellinus, said,--

"Have a care that this Stoic is near me in the gardens. I want to see
what impression our torches will make on him."

Chilo was afraid of the threat which quivered in Caesar's voice.
"O lord," said he, "I shall see nothing, for I cannot see in the
night-time."

"The night will be as bright as day," replied Caesar, with a threatening
laugh.

Turning then to the Augustians, Nero talked about races which he
intended to have when the games were over.

Petronius approached Chilo, and asked, pushing him on the shoulder,--

"Have I not said that thou wouldst not hold out?"

"I wish to drink," said Chilo, stretching his trembling hand toward a
goblet of wine; but he was unable to raise it to his lips. Seeing this,
Vestinius took the vessel; but later he drew near, and inquired with
curious and frightened face,--

"Are the Furies pursuing thee?"

The old man looked at him a certain time with open lips, as if not
understanding what he said. But Vestinius repeated,

"Are the Furies pursuing thee?"

"No," answered Chilo; "but night is before me."

"How, night? May the gods have mercy on thee. How night?"

"Night, ghastly and impenetrable, in which something is moving,
something coming toward me; but I know not what it is, and I am
terrified."

"I have always been sure that there are witches. Dost thou not dream of
something?"

"No, for I do not sleep. I did not think that they would be punished
thus."

"Art thou sorry for them?"

"Why do ye shed so much blood? Hast heard what that one said from the
cross? Woe to us!"

"I heard," answered Vestinius, in a low voice. "But they are