‘That is very true,’ said the jeweller; ’besides, they wear no jewels—­they mutter imprecations when they see a serpent; and at Pompeii all our ornaments are serpentine.’

‘Do but observe,’ said a third, who was a fabricant of bronze, ’how yon Nazarene scowls at the piety of the sacrificial procession.  He is murmuring curses on the temple, be sure.  Do you know, Celcinus, that this fellow, passing by my shop the other day, and seeing me employed on a statue of Minerva, told me with a frown that, had it been marble, he would have broken it; but the bronze was too strong for him.  “Break a goddess!” said I.  “A goddess!” answered the atheist; “it is a demon—­an evil spirit!” Then he passed on his way cursing.  Are such things to be borne?  What marvel that the earth heaved so fearfully last night, anxious to reject the atheist from her bosom?—­An atheist, do I say? worse still—­a scorner of the Fine Arts!  Woe to us fabricants of bronze, if such fellows as this give the law to society!’

‘These are the incendiaries that burnt Rome under Nero,’ groaned the jeweller.

While such were the friendly remarks provoked by the air and faith of the Nazarene, Olinthus himself became sensible of the effect he was producing; he turned his eyes round, and observed the intent faces of the accumulating throng, whispering as they gazed; and surveying them for a moment with an expression, first of defiance and afterwards of compassion, he gathered his cloak round him and passed on, muttering audibly, ’Deluded idolaters!—­did not last night’s convulsion warn ye?  Alas! how will ye meet the last day?’

The crowd that heard these boding words gave them different interpretations, according to their different shades of ignorance and of fear; all, however, concurred in imagining them to convey some awful imprecation.  They regarded the Christian as the enemy of mankind; the epithets they lavished upon him, of which ‘Atheist’ was the most favored and frequent, may serve, perhaps, to warn us, believers of that same creed now triumphant, how we indulge the persecution of opinion Olinthus then underwent, and how we apply to those whose notions differ from our own the terms at that day lavished on the fathers of our faith.

As Olinthus stalked through the crowd, and gained one of the more private places of egress from the forum, he perceived gazing upon him a pale and earnest countenance, which he was not slow to recognize.

Wrapped in a pallium that partially concealed his sacred robes, the young Apaecides surveyed the disciple of that new and mysterious creed, to which at one time he had been half a convert.

’Is he, too, an impostor?  Does this man, so plain and simple in life, in garb, in mien—­does he too, like Arbaces, make austerity the robe of the sensualist?  Does the veil of Vesta hide the vices of the prostitute?’

Olinthus, accustomed to men of all classes, and combining with the enthusiasm of his faith a profound experience of his kind, guessed, perhaps, by the index of the countenance, something of what passed within the breast of the priest.  He met the survey of Apaecides with a steady eye, and a brow of serene and open candour.