“Rise and come with me,” said Peter to the young man.
Vinicius rose. By the light of the burning, tears were visible on his face, which was pale from emotion. His lips moved, as if in prayer.
“Let us go,” said he.
But Chilo repeated again: “Lord, what shall I do with the mules that are waiting? Perhaps this worthy prophet prefers riding to walking.”
Vinicius did not know himself what to answer; but hearing from Peter that the quarryman’s hut was near by, he said,—
“Take the mules to Macrinus.”
“Pardon me, lord, if I mention the house in Ameriola. In view of such an awful fire, it is easy to forget a thing so paltry.”
“Thou wilt get it.”
“O grandson of Numa Pompilius, I have always been sure, but now, when this magnanimous prophet also has heard the promise, I will not remind thee even of this, that thou hast promised me a vineyard. Pax vobiscum. I shall find thee, lord. Pax vobiscum.”
They answered, “And peace with thee.”