hrist
was his last hope. Everything had failed him. Only a miracle could save
Lygia; hence he beat the stone flags with his forehead and prayed for
the miracle.

But he knew enough yet to understand that Peter's prayers were more
important than his own. Peter had promised him Lygia, Peter had baptized
him, Peter had performed miracles, let him give aid and rescue.

And a certain night he went to seek the Apostle. The Christians, of
whom not many remained, had concealed him now carefully even from other
brethren, lest any of the weaker in spirit might betray him wittingly or
unwittingly. Vinicius, amid the general confusion and disaster, occupied
also in efforts to get Lygia out of prison, had lost sight of Peter,
he had barely seen him once from the time of his own baptism till the
beginning of the persecution. But betaking himself to that quarryman
in whose hut he was baptized, he learned that there would be a meeting
outside the Porta Salaria in a vineyard which belonged to Cornelius
Pudens. The quarryman offered to guide him, and declared that he would
find Peter there. They started about dusk, and, passing beyond the wall,
through hollows overgrown with reeds, reached the vineyard in a wild
and lonely place. The meeting was held in a wine-shed. As Vinicius drew
near, the murmur of prayer reached his ears. On entering he saw by
dim lamplight a few tens of kneeling figures sunk in prayer. They were
saying a kind of litany; a chorus of voices, male and female, repeated
every moment, "Christ have mercy on us." In those voices, deep, piercing
sadness and sorrow were heard.

Peter was present. He was kneeling in front of the others, before a
wooden cross nailed to the wall of the shed, and was praying. From a
distance Vinicius recognized his white hair and his upraised hands. The
first thought of the young patrician was to pass through the assembly,
cast himself at the Apostle's feet, and cry, "Save!" but whether it was
the solemnity of the prayer, or because weakness bent the knees under
Vinicius, he began to repeat while he groaned and clasped his hands:
"Christ have mercy!" Had he been conscious, he would have understood
that his was not the only prayer in which there was a groan; that he was
not the only one who had brought with him his pain, alarm, and grief.
There was not in that assembly one soul which had not lost persons dear
to the heart; and when the most zealous and courageous confessors were
in prison alre