Marcus looked at him curiously. “Are you a Christian, sir?” he asked. “Nay, do not fear to answer; I have friends who are Christians,” and he sighed, “nor could I harm you if I would, who wish to harm none, least of all a Christian.”
“My lord Marcus, I fear hurt at no man’s hand; also the days of Nero have gone by and Vespasian reigns, who molests us not. I am Cyril, a bishop of the Christians in Rome, and if you will hear me I am come to preach to you my faith, which, I trust, may yet be yours.”
Marcus stared at the man; it was to him a matter of amazement that this priest should take so much trouble for a stranger. Then a thought struck him and he asked:
“What fee do you charge for these lessons in a new religion?”
The bishop’s pale face flushed.
“Sir,” he answered, “if you wish to reject my message, do it without insult. I do not sell the grace of God for lucre.”
Again Marcus was impressed.
“Your pardon,” he said, “yet I have known priests take money, though it is true they were never of your faith. Who told you about me?”
“One, my lord Marcus, to whom you have behaved well,” answered Cyril gravely.
Marcus sprang from his seat.