“Among all the prisoners there was neither man nor woman who was more calmly self-possessed, more devoutly resigned, than Magdalen.  The words, ’There is more joy in Heaven over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine that need no repentance,’ strengthened her greatly, and she repented—­yea and verily, she did.  And for my part, God is my witness that not an impulse as from man to woman drew me to her, and yet I could not leave her, and I passed the day by her side, and at night she haunted my soul, and it would have seemed to me fairer than all in life besides to have been allowed to die with her.

“It was at the time of the fourth decree of persecution, a few months before the promulgation of the first edict of toleration.

“He that sacrifices, it is said, shall go unpunished, and he that refuses, shall by some means or other be brought to it, but those who continue stiff-necked shall suffer death.  For a long time much consideration had been shown to the prisoners, but now they were alarmed by having the edict read to them anew.  Many hid themselves groaning and lamenting, others prayed aloud, and most awaited what might happen with pale lips and painful breathing.

“Magdalen remained perfectly calm.  The names of the Christian prisoners were called out, and the imperial soldiers led them all together to one spot.  Neither my name nor hers was called, for I did not belong to the prisoners, and she had not been apprehended for the faith’s sake.  The officer was rolling up his list, when Magdalen rose and stepped modestly forward, saying with quiet dignity, ‘I too am a Christian.’

“If there be an angel who wears the form and features of man, his face must resemble hers, as she looked in that hour.  The Roman, a worthy man, looked at her with a benevolent, but searching gaze.  I do not find your name here,’ he said aloud, shaking his head and pointing to the roll; and he added in a lower voice, ‘Nor do I intend to find it.’

“She went closer up to him, and said out loud, Grant me my place among the believers, and write down, that Magdalen, the Christian, refuses to sacrifice.’

“My soul was deeply moved, and with joyful eagerness I cried out, ’Put down my name too, and write, that Menander, the son of Herophilus, also refuses.’  The Roman did his duty.

“Time has not blotted out from my memory a single moment of that day.  There stood the altar, and near it the heathen priest on one side, and on the other the emperor’s officer.  We were taken up two by two; Magdalen and I were the last.  One word now—­one little word—­would give us life and freedom, another the rack and death.  Out of thirty of us only four had found courage to refuse to sacrifice, but the feeble hearted broke out into lamentations, and beat their foreheads, and prayed that the Lord might strengthen the courage of the others.  An unutterably pure and lofty joy filled my soul, and I felt, as if we were out of