The furniture in Virgilia's room was very simple. The bed was a couch, covered with white, with head and foot-board of ebony, curved in form and inlaid with quaint flower designs in mother-of-pearl. There was one chair, with slender arms, also in ebony and mother-of-pearl, and a stand, with ewer and basin of beaten brass. The floor was laid in red brick, and on it, at the bedside, lay a tiger-skin, brought from the East. Its tawny tints, varied by bright yellow, were the only colors in the room.
Virgilia was fond of fresh air. She pushed up the trap door in the roof, reaching it easily, as the ceiling was so low, and let in a flood of glorious evening light. Through the aperture she could see a patch of brilliant blue sky. The swallows, dipping and circling, were swirling about in the heavens, black specks against the golden light of the departing sun.
Virgilia drew a long breath and then another. It had been very hot and very fatiguing in her mother's room. She had refused to have any sun or light except that coming out of the large living-room, from which four sleeping chambers opened.
The girl stretched out her arms, in graceful languor, then, throwing herself on the couch, she closed her eyes, but she was not sleeping. A panorama of thoughts and visions passed rapidly through her mind. She saw herself as she had been, a pagan, a worshipper of the gods, with no thought above the arranging of her hair or the flowers she would wear at the banquets. She recalled the visits to Hermione and the quiet meetings of the Christians in their hiding-places in the catacombs, surrounded by the graves of many martyrs to the Christian faith.
One scene she would never forget. It was one afternoon when she and
Hermione accompanied by Marcus leaving Alyrus sleeping in the
antechamber, had slipped out by a side entrance, joining the other
Christians in the shadowy passageways of the underground cemeteries.
An old man, with snowy beard and piercing eyes was reading aloud a letter, a letter from the Apostle Paul to those who were at Rome. The light from torches stuck into the rough walls of the cubiculum shone on an hundred upturned faces of brave followers of Christ who knew not on what day, or in what hour they would be arrested and thrown into prison.
They listened to the words of their fellow Christian, Paul, who had seen the Lord on the way to Damascus.
"To all that be in Rome," he wrote, "beloved of God, called to be saints: Grace to you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ * * * Your faith is spoken of throughout the whole world * * * I long to see you * * * I am debtor both to the Greeks and to the Barbarians * * * So, as much as in me is, I am ready to preach the Gospel to you that are at Rome also."
Then the elder told them that a report had been brought by brethren arrived from Antioch, that the Apostle, who had for some time been confined at Caesarea, had finally appealed to Caesar, and would be brought to Rome to be tried. He might come at any time, and perhaps they would be privileged to see him face to face.
Marcus and Hermione had said also on the way back to the villa, that their mother thought that some day the Apostle would come to Rome, it might be soon, and would bring them news of the Lord Christ, for he had seen him with his own eyes.