"What is this?" wondered Anatolius. "Why should this enemy of the Galileans be here?"
Crosses embroidered in gold adorned the violet chlamys of Avinius, and were even sewn on his crimson leather shoes.
Julius Mauricus, another friend of Anatolius, accosted Avinius—
"How do you do, my reverend friend?" he asked, after a surprised and mocking scrutiny of the dignitary's new costume.
Julius was a free man, having an independent fortune; and for him the change of religion was a matter of indifference. He was by no means surprised at the transformation of his official friends, but took pleasure in putting teasing questions whenever he met them, assuming the air of a moralist who concealed indignation under the mask of irony.
The people were hurrying to the entrance of the church, and upon the deserted steps outside the friends were soon able to talk freely. Anatolius, ensconced behind a column, listened to the dialogue—
"Why didn't you stay to the end of the service?" asked Mauricus.
"Palpitations. I was half-stifled. I'm not accustomed..." and Avinius added thoughtfully—
"The new preacher has an extraordinary style. His exaggerations act too violently on my nerves. A style ... like the scratching of iron on glass!"
"Really, how touching!" laughed Mauricus. "Here's a man who has abjured conscience!... But style...."