“Aye!  Man achieves a handful of good, and forthwith his heart swells with a camel-load of pride.  What though my teeth are chattering, I am none the less a most miserable creature.  How it tickled my vanity, in spite of all my meditations and scruples, when they came from Raithu and offered me the office of elder; I felt more triumphant the first time I won with the quadriga, but I was scarcely more puffed up with pride then, than I was yesterday.  How many who think to follow the Lord strive only to be exalted as He is; they keep well out of the way of His abasement.  Thou, O Thou Most High, art my witness that I earnestly seek it, but so soon as the thorns tear my flesh the drops of blood turn to roses, and if I put them aside, others come and still fling garlands in my way.  I verily believe that it is as hard here on earth to find pain without pleasure, as pleasure without pain.”

While thus he meditated his teeth chattered with cold, but suddenly his reflections were interrupted, for the dogs set up a loud barking.  Phoebicius was knocking at the senator’s door.

Paulus rose at once, and approached the gate-way.  He could hear every word that was spoken in the court-yard; the deep voice was the senator’s, the high sharp tones must be the centurion’s.

Phoebicius was demanding his wife back from Petrus, as she had hidden in his house, while Petrus positively declared that Sirona had not crossed his threshold since the morning of the previous day.

In spite of the vehement and indignant tones in which his lodger spoke, the senator remained perfectly calm, and presently went away to ask his wife whether she by chance, while he was asleep, had opened the house to the missing woman.  Paulus heard the soldier’s steps as he paced up and down the court-yard, but they soon ceased, for Dame Dorothea appeared at the door with her husband, and on her part emphatically declared that she knew nothing of Sirona.

“Your son Polykarp then,” interrupted Phoebicius, “will be better informed of her whereabouts.”

“My son has been since yesterday at Raithu on business,” said Petrus resolutely but evasively; “we expect him home to-day only.”

“It would seem that he has been quick, and has returned much sooner,” retorted Phoebicius.  “Our preparations for sacrificing on the mountain were no secret, and the absence of the master of the house is the opportunity for thieves to break in—­above all, for lovers who throw roses into their ladies’ windows.  You Christians boast that you regard the marriage tie as sacred, but it seems to me that you apply the rule only to your fellow-believers.  Your sons may make free to take their pleasure among the wives of the heathen; it only remains to be proved whether the heathen husbands will be trifled with or not.  So far as I am concerned, I am inclined for anything rather than jesting.  I would have you to understand that I will never let Caesar’s uniform, which I wear, be stained by disgrace, and that I am minded to search your house, and if I find my undutiful wife and your son within its walls, I will carry them and you before the judge, and sue for my rights.”