“His father was a philosopher. He swears by the gods.”
“He is an atheist.”
“See! See! He is sustaining her head.”
“She is not dead; she gasps.”
“Body of Bacchus! how the water boils. The god is wroth.”
“Bah! It boils no more now than it did yesterday.”
In the ice-green water could be seen the young man with nervous arms striking out. He held up the girl with one arm. The swell of the rising volumes of water greatly facilitated his efforts. Indeed the upsurging flood had such force, that to die by drowning in it was a death by inches, for as often as a body went beneath the surface, it was again propelled upwards.
In a minute he was at the breastwork, had one hand on it, then called: “Help, some one, to lift her out!”
Thereupon the man clothed in brown wool put [pg 24]down his arms, clasped the half-conscious girl and raised her from the water. Callipodius assisted, and between them she was lifted out of the basin. The priests and priestesses remonstrated with loud cries. But some of the spectators cheered. A considerable portion of the men ranged themselves beside the two who had the girl in their arms, and prevented the ministers of Nemausus from recovering Perpetua from the hands of her rescuers.
The men of the upper town—Greek colonists, or their descendants—looked superciliously and incredulously on the cult of the Gallic deity of the fountain. It was tolerated, but laughed at, as something that belonged to a class of citizens that was below them in standing.