“I wonder,” Torquatus said to himself, “did any one ever perish in this way? or is it a mere allegory?—if so, of what? Can a person be drawn on gradually in this manner to spiritual destruction? are my present thoughts, by any chance, an outer circle, which has caught me, and——”
“Fundi!” exclaimed the muleteer, pointing to a town before them; and presently the mule was sliding along the broad flags of its pavement.
Torquatus looked over his letters, and drew one out for the town. He was taken to a little inn of the poorest class, by his guide, who was paid handsomely, and retired swearing and grumbling at the niggardliness of the traveller. He then inquired the way to the house of Cassianus, the school-master, found it, and delivered his letter. He received as kind a welcome as if he had arrived at home; joined his host in a frugal meal, during which he learned the master’s history.
A native of Fundi, he had started the school in Rome, with which we became acquainted at an early period of our history, and had proved eminently successful. But finding a persecution imminent, and his Christianity discovered, he had disposed of his school and retired to his small native town, where he was promised, after the vacation, the children of the principal inhabitants. In a fellow-Christian he saw nothing but a brother; and as such he talked freely with him, of his past adventures and his future prospects. A strange idea dashed through the mind of Torquatus, that some day that information might be turned into money.
It was still early when Torquatus took his leave, and, pretending to have some business in the town, he would not allow his host to accompany him. He bought himself some more respectable apparel, went to the best inn, and ordered a couple of horses, with a postillion to accompany him; for, to fulfill Fabiola’s commission it was necessary to ride forward quick, change his horses at each relay, and travel through the night. He did so till he reached Bovillæ, on the skirts of the Alban hills. Here he rested, changed his travelling suit, and rode on gaily between the lines of tombs, which brought him to the gate of that city, within whose walls there was more of good and more of evil contained, than in any province of the empire.
The Peacock, as an Emblem of the Resurrection.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE FALL.
