features, who, a staff between his feet, sat quietly on a projection of the wall.

"I answer for him, my Scævola; besides, his person? is sufficient----"

"Nothing of the sort. The statutes of our league demand surety, and I insist upon it," said Scævola quietly.

"Good, good; I will be surety, toughest of all jurists!" repeated the priest with a smile.

He made a sign towards one of the passages to the left.

From thence appeared two young ostiarii (doorkeepers), leading a man into the middle of the vault, upon whose covered head all eyes were fixed. After a pause, Silverius lifted the cover from the head and shoulders of the new comer.

"Albinus!" cried the others, in surprise, indignation, and anger.

Young Licinius grasped his sword; Scævola slowly rose; confused exclamations sounded from all sides.

"What! Albinus, the traitor?"

The reviled man looked shyly about him; his relaxed features announced inborn cowardice; as if beseeching help he turned his eyes towards the priest.

"Yes, Albinus!" said the latter quietly, thus appealed to. "Will any one of the colleagues speak against him? Let him speak."

"By my Genius!" cried Licinius, before any one could reply, "needs it to be told? We all know who and what Albinus is. A cowardly shameful traitor"--anger suffocated his voice.

"Invectives are no proof," interposed Scævola. "But I ask himself; he shall confess here before us all. Albinus, was it you, or was it not, who, when the existence of our league was betrayed to the tyrant and you alone were accused, looked quietly on and saw the noble Boëthius and Symmachus, our confederates, because they defended you against the tyrant, despoiled of their fortune, persecuted, taken prisoners and executed; while you, the really accused, saved yourself by taking a shameful oath that you would never more trouble yourself about the state, and by suddenly disappearing? Speak, was it you for whose sake the pride of our fatherland fell?"

A murmur of indignation went through the assembly. The accused remained dumb and trembled; even Silverius lost countenance for a moment.

Then the man who was leaning against the wall opposite, raised himself and took a step forward; his mere vicinity seemed to embolden the priest, who again began:

"Friends, what you say has happened, but not as you say it. Before all things, know this: Albinus is the least to blame. What he did, he did by my advice."

"By your advice!"

"You dare to confess it?"

"Albinus was accused through the treachery of a slave, who had deciphered the secret writing in the letters to Byzantium. All the tyrant's suspicion was aroused; every appearance of resistance or of connection would increase the danger. The impetuosity of Boëthius and Symmachus, who courageously defended Albinus, was noble but foolish, for it revealed to the barbarians the sentiments of the whole of the Roman aristocracy; and showed that Albinus did not stand alone. They acted against my advice, and alas! have suffered death for so doing. But their zeal was superfluous; for the hand of the Lord suddenly bereft the slave of life before further revelations, and the secret writings of Albinus had been successfully destroyed before his arrest.

"But do you believe that Albinus would have been silent under torture, under the threat of death, if naming his co-conspirators could have saved him? You do not believe it, Albinus himself did not believe it. Therefore it was necessary, before all else, to gain time and to prevent the use of torture. This was accomplished by his oath. Meanwhile, it is true, Boëthius and Symmachus suffered; they could not be saved; but of their silence, even under torture, we were sure.

"Albinus was freed from his prison by a miracle, like St. Paul at Philippi. It was said that he had escaped to Athens, and the tyrant was contented with prohibiting his return. But the triune God has prepared a refuge for him here in His temple until the hour of freedom approaches. In the solitude of His sacred asylum the Lord has touched his heart in a wonderful manner, and, undismayed by the danger of death, which once before had so nearly overtaken him, he again enters into our circle, and offers to the service of God and the fatherland his whole immense fortune. Listen: he has made over all his property to the church of St. Maria Majoris for the uses of our league. Would you despise him and his millions?"

A pause of astonishment ensued; at last Licinius cried:

"Priest, you are as wise as----as a priest. But such wisdom pleases me not."

"Silverius," said the jurist, "you may take the millions. It is fitting that you should do so. But I was the friend of Boëthius; it is not fitting that I should have anything in common with that coward. I cannot forgive him. Away with him!"

"Away with him!" sounded from all sides. Scævola had given utterance to the sentiment of all present. Albinus grew pale; even Silverius quailed under this general indignation. "Cethegus!" whispered he, claiming assistance.

This man, who, until now, had remained silent and had only regarded the speakers with cool superiority, now stepped into the middle of the assembly.

He was tall and lean, but powerful, with a broad breast and muscles of pure steel.

A purple hem on his toga and delicate sandals betrayed riches, rank and taste, but a long brown soldier's mantle hid the remainder of his underclothing. His head was one of those which, once seen, are never again forgotten. His thick and still glossy black hair was cut short, after Roman fashion, round his lofty, almost too prominent forehead and nobly-formed temples. Deep under his finely-arched brows were hidden his narrow eyes, in whose undecided dark-grey colour lay a whole ocean of sunken passions and a still more pronounced expression of the coolest self-control. Round his sharply cut and beardless lips lurked a trait of proud contempt of God and His whole creation.

As he stepped forward, and, with quiet distinction, allowed his eyes to wander over the excited assembly; as he commenced his insinuating yet commanding speech, every one felt his superiority, and few could remain in his presence without a consciousness of subordination.

"Why do you wrangle," he said coldly, "about things that must be done? Who wills the end, must will the means. You will not forgive? As you please! That is of little consequence. But you must and you can forget. I also was a friend of the dead, perhaps their dearest. And yet--I will forget. I do so just because I was their friend. He loves them, Scævola, and he alone, who avenges them. For the sake of revenge---- Albinus, your hand!"

All were silent, awed more by the personality than convinced by the reasons of the speaker.

But the jurist still objected:

"Rusticiana, the influential woman, the widow of Boëthius, the daughter of Symmachus, is favourable to our league. Will she remain so if this man enters it? Can she ever forget and forgive? Never!"

"She can. Do not believe me, believe your eyes."

With these words Cethegus quickly turned and entered one of the side-passages, whose opening had been hidden until now by his own person.

Close to the entrance a veiled figure stood listening; he caught her hand:

"Come," whispered he, "come now."

"I cannot! I will not!" was the almost inaudible answer of the resisting woman. "I curse him! I cannot look at him, the