"Come, Aurelian," said Sisinnius, "help yourself to some of those Calabrian pomegranates and to a cyathus of Falernian. You seem to want it sadly, for you look as pale as if you had seen the ghost of Nero. While you help yourself, tell us how you fared at the emperor's. Did he by way of disport order any of those Jews or Christians to be executed?" The Jews and Christians were during the first centuries considered the same by the pagans.
"No! But it might have come to that had the entertainment been prolonged!" And be related the incidents we have already laid before the reader. When he spoke of the effect produced on the emperor by the allusion to the "Crucified Jew," the eyes of Flavia and Theodora met and turned to the face of Clement. The latter seemed for a time lost to the thought of all about him. Tears glistened in his eyes, which were sad and thoughtful, while his white head was bent and his lips moved silently. Sisinnius was too wrapt in the description of the banquet, and Aurelian too much complimented by the silence in which they listened to him, to observe the old man. Otherwise, they, like the two women, would have easily construed the motion of his lips into the words: "Father, not my will, but thine, be done. But give wisdom and strength to thy servant."
"This bodes ill for the Christians," said Sisinnius when Aurelian had finished.
"I would not wonder to find a worse edict than that of Nero posted on brazen tablets in the Campus Martius in a few days. Domitian is under the impression that they in their private meetings are plotting against his life and throne. He has already ordered one of the most intimate and trusted friends of Jesus to be arrested at Ephesus and to be brought in chains to Rome," said Aurelian.
At this announcement Clement, who had been a quiet listener, started as if with sudden pain; then as suddenly recovering his composure, he asked: "Is it possible they could think of dragging the good old man across the sea in this wintry weather? The journey would kill him."
"It is not only possible, but it is a fact," said Aurelian.
"You know this good old man, then?" asked Sisinnius.
"Know him! Yes, good right have I to know him. There is not a country from the Pillars of Hercules or the Tin Islands of the North to the sunny steeps of Asia and syrtes of Africa, in which I have not been and met with many friends. Most of those I loved and labored with are gone"—he wiped away a tear—"but of all that remain there is none more worthy, none more venerated, none more dear to my heart and to the heart of one far greater than I, than John of Ephesus. He is the last of a generation now almost passed away—a generation of mighty workers—giants in their way—sent on earth to lay the foundations of an edifice, the stories of which are to be laid on age after age until they reach the sky. When he is gone, the last direct link between that generation and the present will be taken away. Already the work they commenced has fallen on frail and feeble shoulders." Here the speaker, who had forgotten his company in the warmth of his language, bent his head upon his breast, and again his lips moved silently. All present looked on wonderingly: there was something in the old man's appearance to excite their admiration.
Soon after, Clement rose to depart. Theodora and Sisinnius endeavored to induce him to remain. He had spent nights from time to time in their house, when the former had been sick; but now he was not to be moved.