“But what is this, Niger?” asked he; “are ye commanded to watch the prison?”
“Yes, noble Petronius. The prefect feared lest they might try to rescue the incendiaries.”
“Have ye the order to admit no one?” inquired Vinicius.
“We have not; acquaintances will visit the prisoners, and in that way we shall seize more Christians.”
“Then let me in,” said Vinicius; and pressing Petronius’s hand, he said, “See Acte, I will come to learn her answer.”
“Come,” responded Petronius.
At that moment under the ground and beyond the thick walls was heard singing. The hymn, at first low and muffled, rose more and more. The voices of men, women, and children were mingled in one harmonious chorus. The whole prison began to sound, in the calmness of dawn, like a harp. But those were not voices of sorrow or despair; on the contrary, gladness and triumph were heard in them.
The soldiers looked at one another with amazement. The first golden and rosy gleams of the morning appeared in the sky.