“We are all faithful subjects,” said the baker indignantly.

“You are a pack of rebellious rabble,” retorted a Roman soldier, who like the whole cohort quartered in the province of Hermopolis, had formerly served in Judaea under the cruel Tinnius Rufus.  “Among you worshippers of beasts squabbles never cease, and as to the Christians, who have made their nests out there on the other side of the valley, say the worst you can of them and still you would be flattering them.”

“Brave Fuscus is quite right!” cried a beggar.  The wretches have brought the plague into our houses; wherever the disease shows itself there are Christian men and women to be seen.  They came to my brother’s house; they sat all night by his sick children and of course both died.”

“If only my old governor Tinnius Rufus were here,” growled the soldier, “they would none of them be any better off than their own crucified god.”

“Well, I certainly have nothing in common with them,” replied the baker.  “But what is true must continue true.  They are quiet, kind folks and punctual in payment, who do no harm and show kindness to many poor creatures.”

“Kindness?” cried the beggar, who had received alms himself from the deacon of the church at Besa, but had also been exhorted to work.  “All the five priests of Sekket of the grotto of Artemis have been led away by them and have basely abandoned the sanctuary of the goddess.  And is it good and kind that they should have poisoned my brother’s children with their potions?”

“Why should they not have killed the children?” asked the soldier.  “I heard of the same things in Syria; and as to this statue, I will never wear my sword again—­”

“Hark! listen to the bold Fuscus,” cried the crowd.  “He has seen much.”

“I will never wear my sword again if they did not knock over the statue in the dark.”

“No, no,” cried the sailor positively.  “It fell with the land that was washed away; I saw it lying there myself.”

“And are you a Christian, too?” asked the soldier, “or do you suppose that I was in jest when I swore by my sword?  I have served in Bithynia, in Syria, and in Judaea.  I know these villains, good people.  There were hundreds of Christians to be seen there who would throw away life like a worn-out shoe because they did not choose to sacrifice to the statues of Caesar and the gods.”

“There, you hear!” cried the beggar.  “And did you see a single man of them among the citizens who set to work to restore the statue to its place?”

“There were none of them there,” said the sailor, who was beginning to share the soldier’s views.

“The Christians threw down the Emperor’s statue,” the beggar shouted to the crowd.  “It is proved, and they shall suffer for it.  Every man who is a friend of the divine Hadrian come with me now and have them out of their houses.”

“No uproar!” interrupted the soldier to the furious man.  “There is the tribune, he will hear you.”