“Crooked twist, why do you stay in the house?  I comb the wool, and the Miletan threads.  Crooked twist, what did your son die of?  He fell from the white horses into the sea.”

She now began to prefer the company of boys and girls to that of the gentle and quiet Ahmes.  She did not notice that her friend was not so often with her.  The persecution having relented, the Christians were able to assemble more regularly, and the Nubian frequented these meetings assiduously.  His zeal increased, and he sometimes uttered mysterious threats.  He said that the rich would not keep their wealth.  He went to the public places to which the poorer Christians used to resort, and assembling together all the poor wretches who were lying in the shade of the old walls, he announced to them that all slaves would soon be free, and that the day of justice was at hand.

“In the kingdom of God,” he said, “the slaves will drink new wine and eat delicious fruits; whilst the rich, crouching at their feet like dogs, will devour the crumbs from their table.”

These sayings were noised abroad through all that quarter of the city, and the masters feared that Ahmes might incite the slaves to revolt.  The innkeeper hated him intensely, though he carefully concealed his rancour.

One day, a silver salt-cellar, reserved for the table of the gods, disappeared from the inn.  Ahmes was accused of having stolen it—­out of hate to his master and to the gods of the empire.  There was no proof of the accusation, and the slave vehemently denied the charge.  Nevertheless, he was dragged before the tribunal, and as he had the reputation of being a bad servant, the judge condemned him to death.

“As you did not know how to make a good use of your hands,” he said, “they will be nailed to the cross.”

Ahmes heard the verdict quietly, bowed to the judge most respectfully, and was taken to the public prison.  During the three days that remained to him, he did not cease to preach the gospel to the prisoners, and it was related afterwards that the criminals, and the gaoler himself, touched by his words, believed in Jesus crucified.

He was taken to the very place which one night, less than two years before, he had crossed so joyfully, carrying in his cloak little Thais, the daughter of his soul, his darling flower.  When his hands were nailed to the cross, he uttered no complaint, but many times he sighed and murmured, “I thirst.”

His agony lasted three days and three nights.  It seemed hardly possible that human flesh could have endured such prolonged torture.  Many times it was thought he was dead; the flies clustered on his eyelids, but suddenly he would reopen his bloodshot eyes.  On the morning of the fourth day, he sang, in a voice clearer and purer than that of a child—­

“Tell us, Mary, what thou hast seen where thou hast been?”

Then he smiled and said—­

“They come, the angels of the good Lord.  They bring me wine and fruit.  How refreshing is the fanning of their wings!”