nothing with Caesar. Worse than that, I am sure that he
would act in opposition to my request. If that were not the case, would
I advise thee to flee with Lygia or to rescue her? Besides, if thou
escape, Caesar's wrath will turn on me. To-day he would rather do
something at thy request than at mine. Do not count on that, however.
Get her out of the prison, and flee! Nothing else is left. If that does
not succeed, there will be time for other methods. Meanwhile know that
Lygia is in prison, not alone for belief in Christ; Poppaea's anger is
pursuing her and thee. Thou hast offended the Augusta by rejecting her,
dost remember? She knows that she was rejected for Lygia, whom she hated
from the first cast of the eye. Nay, she tried to destroy Lygia before
by ascribing the death of her own infant to her witchcraft. The hand
of Poppaea is in this. How explain that Lygia was the first to be
imprisoned? Who could point out the house of Linus? But I tell thee that
she has been followed this long time. I know that I wring thy soul, and
take the remnant of thy hope from thee, but I tell thee this purposely,
for the reason that if thou free her not before they come at the idea
that thou wilt try, ye are both lost."

"Yes; I understand!" muttered Vinicius.

The streets were empty because of the late hour. Their further
conversation was interrupted, however, by a drunken gladiator who came
toward them. He reeled against Petronius, put one hand on his shoulder,
covering his face with a breath filled with wine, and shouted in a
hoarse voice,--

"To the lions with Christians!"

"Mirmillon," answered Petronius, quietly, "listen to good counsel; go
thy way."

With his other hand the drunken man seized him by the arm,--

"Shout with me, or I'll break thy neck: Christians to the lions!" But
the arbiter's nerves had had enough of those shouts. From the time that
he had left the Palatine they had been stifling him like a nightmare,
and rending his ears. So when he saw the fist of the giant above him,
the measure of his patience was exceeded.

"Friend," said he, "thou hint the smell of wine, and art stopping my
way."

Thus speaking, he drove into the man's breast to the hilt the short
sword which he had brought from home; then, taking the arm of Vinicius,
he continued as if nothing had happened,--

"Caesar said to-day, 'Tell Vinicius from me to be at the games in which
Christians will appear.' Dost understand what that means? They w