guard. The other soldier had been found in the morning locked up in the room in which the prisoners had been confined. Hegio had also disappeared most mysteriously. This was what Tigellinus had to tell. Nero looked enraged and angry.

As soon as Cineas entered, Nero regarded him with an evil smile.

Now Cineas had put on the most radiant and joyous expression. He had made up his mind not merely to death, but to humiliation. He determined to stoop to any flattery, or any sacrifice of self-respect, if by so doing he might influence Nero in his favour, for the sake of Helena. This armed him at all

points.

"So," said Nero, dryly; "you are here at last. Why have you not been here before?"

Cineas pleaded delicacy of feeling. Cæsar had been in danger, and had been engaged in a work of self-preservation, and punishment of his enemies. He could not think of intruding such trifles as he had to offer to Cæsar's notice at such a time. But he had come as soon as he thought circumstances could warrant it.

All this, which was expressed with an easy grace, and a delicacy of flattery peculiar to Cineas alone, seemed very agreeable to Nero. Yet he still maintained a harsh demeanour.

"Athenian," said he, in a mocking tone, "you who admire Socrates so greatly, do you think you have enough of his philosophy to die like him? For, to tell you the truth, I am thinking very seriously of trying some such experiment on you."

Cineas smiled gayly. "Yes," he answered; "I think so. But before you try it, you must let me tell you the best story that ever either you or I have heard in our lives. It is a real one, too, and I have but lately heard it."

Nero was charmed by his gay indifference, and his curiosity was excited at the idea of a story; for no one loved a story better than he, and no one could tell a story better than Cineas.

"You glorious philosopher!" he cried, changing his whole manner into one which was like his old cordiality. "Never yet have I met with a man who could hear such words as these from me."

"What words?" said Cineas, indifferently. "Oh, about death. What is death? I don't care much about either death or life. Death; why death is only a sort of transition state, a point of change from one form of life to another. Poison me, or burn me, whenever you like. It is quite a matter of indifference to me."

At this Tigellinus stared in stupid and unfeigned amazement. Nero burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"You are the greatest of men," he cried. He then embraced Cineas in a sort of rapture. "There is no one like you. O Cineas, you will have to teach me your splendid indifference to death."

"I can teach nothing to one like you. When with you I do not teach; I learn," said Cineas. "But as you are going to kill me, I must make haste and tell my story."

"Kill you! I wouldn't kill you for the world. Why, man, you are a wonder among men. But tell me this story. I long to hear it."

At this moment Tigellinus excused himself to Nero, and took his departure in deep disgust. He saw the triumph of Cineas, and he was both puzzled and maddened by it. What could he do-he, a vulgar caterer to animal passion—beside a man like this, who jested at death, and laughed in the very face of the fearful master of death?

Then Cineas began his story. He exerted himself as he had never done before. He knew the over-mastering love which Nero had for a fine dramatic situation, and for scenic effect. So he threw himself with his whole soul into his narrative. And never were his wit and vivid descriptive power so conspicuous as now. Nero listened with delight.

He began with a description of Hegio-his baseness, his villany, and his attempts to ruin his master, which had ended in his own dismissal.

Then he showed how Hegio had tried to take vengeance. He told of the burning of the house, and the departure of Labeo to the country.

Hurrying over the circumstances of the arrest, he drew Nero's attention to Galdus as he followed the horseman. Nero listened breathlessly to the story of the avenger on the track of the criminal; he heard how Galdus caught Hegio, and dragged him down, and bound him and carried him away to the vaults.

Then came the story of the rescue, which was told with thrilling effect. Nero appeared delighted with the capture of the guards, and burst forth into exclamations of rapture about the Briton.

But that which afforded to him the highest and most enthusiastic joy was the final vengeance of Galdus on Hegio. To this he listened in breathless excitement, and questioned Cineas over and over again.

The change of the clothes and the substitution of one for the other seemed admirable to him.

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"Oh," he cried, "if Tigellinus had only heard this! He does not know it. He brought me a stupid and clumsy version of this unparalleled narrative. His story was, in every respect, commonplace. This is divine. He has not heard the best part. It is worthy of Sophocles. It would make the plot of a tragedy better than any that I have ever met with. And it shall make one. I myself will write it. I will make this story known to the world. I will make this glorious Briton immortal.

"But where is he?" he cried. "Why did you not bring him? I must have him here and study him. He is a living demi-god. Bring him here at once."

Cineas explained that they were all fugitives.

"Fugitives! Why, the play has ended. Let them go home. All of them. I must have this Briton, and he shall tell me himself how he felt and acted when he watched the flames. Send them all home. I will give you leave. I will write a

pardon for them all.

They have performed parts in a narra

tive which excels all that ever I heard."

And on the impulse of the moment, Nero wrote out a formal pardon, and thrust it into the hand of Cineas.

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'Bring that Briton to me," said he. "I must see him. I must see my Roman again, too. I had nothing to do with this. It was all Tigellinus. But it has turned out well. It has been so admirably managed. We must go to work at that tragedy, Cineas. You shall advise. I will have the benefit of your taste.

"I am glad you have come. I am tired of these Christians. They are stupid. There is no more pleasure to be had out of them. I will go back again with new delight to my art and my poetry. We will renew the happy hours which we used to pass in these high pursuits."

So Nero spoke, saying much more of a similar import, all of which showed that the literary taste, which had lain dormant for a time, had revived in its old strength. Cineas entered with apparent ardour into all the plans which Nero proposed. He consented to do anything and everything. He held in his hand the precious document which gave life and liberty to his friends. That was all that he wished.

XXIX.

Changes.

HEY had passed three days in the catacombs. How sweet and fair seemed the face of nature as they emerged and saw again the glad and glorious sun

light, the green foliage, the rich vegetation, and the abodes of man. That life under-ground had a double horror: it was in darkness, and it was among the dead. It was the valley of the shadow of death. Alas! that shadow had passed over their souls.

There was a great change in Marcus. His sensitive and impressible nature had received a shock which promised to be more than temporary. A profound melancholy, which seemed strange and unnatural in a boy, had been forced upon him. The horror of that darkness had impressed itself upon his soul.

They entered again upon their old life at the villa; but that life, such as it once was, could not return again. It was not easy to obliterate the past. All the house was filled with recollections of that night of agony, when Helena clung to Labeo, and Marcus clung to Helena, and the father, in his anguish, looked upon the retreating forms of those loved ones, lost, as he thought, for ever. Helena could not forget. She had brought Lydia back with her, a pale, meditative girl, whose life there had changed her nature, and whose new terror had filled with a settled melancholy. They were all safe now, at least for the present; but that great danger which they had endured