With such thoughts as these, he walked down the Appian Way. He was wrapped up in his own meditations, and did not see a crowd of people that had gathered at a corner of a street until he was among them. Then he suddenly found himself stopped.
"Ho, friend!" cried a rude voice, "not so fast. Who are you, and where are you going?"
"Away," cried Marcellus in a tone of command natural to one who had ruled over men; and he motioned the man aside.
The crowd were awe-struck by his authoritative tone and imperious manner, but their spokesman showed more courage.
"Tell us who you are, or you shall not pass."
"Fellow," cried Marcellus, "stand aside! Do you not know me? I am a Pretorian."
At that dreaded name the crowd quickly opened, and Marcellus passed through it. But scarcely had he moved five paces away than a voice exclaimed:
"Seize him! It is the Christian, Marcellus!"
A shout arose from the crowd. Marcellus needed no further warning. Dropping his load, he started off down a side street toward the Tiber. The whole crowd pursued. It was a race for life, and death. But Marcellus had been trained to every athletic sport, and increased the distance between himself and his pursuers. At last he reached the Tiber, and leaping in, he swam to the opposite side.
The pursuers reached the river's brink, but followed no further.