“I believe it all, O Quintus.  Of late into my heart an untold peace has come.  All things are changed for me.  The sunlight is on the hills!” It is her open confession.  Lucretia is thenceforth enrolled among the Roman saints of whom the world was not worthy, and who looked for the life to come.

In the fellowship of the Roman church—­already founded and rapidly enlarging—­Quintus finds his pleasure.  A few are Jews from the ghetto beyond the Tiber, till the persecution of Claudius drives them forth.  More are of the varied nationalities met in that commercial and luxurious center.  Most are of plebeian blood.  There are smiths and mechanics; there are stone cutters, workers in mosaics, and decorators.  There are slaves from the very palace of Tiberius.  There is Amon from Egypt, who sells his jewelry down in the Nova Via.  There is Polemon, the Grecian shopkeeper, in the Clivus Victoriae.  There is Onesimus, the servant of Philemon, from Colossae.  There are Amplias and Epaenetus and Stachys, the particular friends of the Gentile apostle.  There is, as well, Pomponia Graecina, that woman of noble blood, who accepts the Christ.  An ever-increasing company it is.

In their assemblies, on the first day of the week, Quintus has his influential place.  He listens to the reading of the older Scriptures; he celebrates with the gathered company the eucharistic suppers and agapae; he keeps with them the Easter celebration, in memory of Him who shall give them eternal life.  In emblem of their faith the sign of the fish is on their evening lamps.  Theirs is a sterling citizenship.  The wanton metropolis of the Caesars is blessed immeasurably by the company of these who follow the risen Lord.

It is after the midcentury that the great Paulus, having met with shipwreck on Melita, draws near to Rome.  Quintus leads the company that goes out southward forty miles, to welcome the Christian traveler.  At Appii Forum, that common town with its bargemen and its tavern keepers, they give the kiss of welcome to a little bent and gray-haired Jew, who shall go down into history as Christ’s most illustrious apostle.  The faithful Luke is his companion.  Along the famous highway of the Via Appia, where emperors and warriors, scholars and Oriental tradesmen have walked, Quintus escorts their guest.  Past the tombs of the Roman great, by uncounted statues, past suburban villas they go, until, through the Porta Appia, the holy prisoner, chained to a Roman guard, finds himself in the city of the Caesars.

One rare privilege the Roman knight then envoys.  In his hired house, near the Pretorian camp, Paul speaks without interruption his words of grace.  The doctrines he had before written to the Roman church he now explains; the wish he had made to see them face to face now expresses itself in words of love.  The flood tides of his eloquence move resistlessly on, as he interprets the new faith and speaks of Him who is to give them eternal life.  Quintus is enriched by his frequent association with the peerless soul.  Nor did he have a prouder thing to say, in the days to come, than to declare, “I heard great Paulus tell of the life immortal.”