Again, with the sweat of anguish breaking out on his brow, Æmilius interposed.
“I pray your mercy,” he said; “let the sentence be still further modified. Suffer the damsel to be relieved of becoming a priestess. Let her become my wife, and I swear that I will make over my estate [pg 279]of Ad Fines to the temple of the god Nemausus, with the villa upon it, and statues and works of art.”
“That is an offer to be entertained by the priesthood and not by me. Boy—hot bricks! and be quick about removing those which have become almost cold.”
A pause ensued whilst the proposal of Æmilius was discussed between the chief priestess of the fountain and the Augustal flamen and the other pontiffs.
The populace became restless, impatient, noisy. They shouted, hooted; called out that they were tired of seeing nothing.
“Come,” said Petronius, “I cannot further delay proceedings.”
“We consent,” said the chief pontiff.
“That is well.”
Then Æmilius approached Perpetua, and entreated her to give way. To cast a few grains on the charcoal meant nothing; it was a mere movement of the hand, a hardly conscious muscular act, altogether out of comparison with the results. Such compliance would give her life, happiness, and would place her in a position to do vast good, and [pg 280]he assured her that his whole life would be devoted to her service.
“I cannot,” she said, looking Æmilius full in the face. “Do not think me ungrateful; my heart overflows for what you have done for me, but I cannot deny my Christ.”