A mocking smile played around the emperor’s lips as he said:
“Then hear thy sentence. Thou shalt be taken from hence to the Appian gate—and there bidden go thy way in peace. Thou art not young enough to be toothsome to the lions, and the sap is so dried in thy veins thou wouldst make but a sorry torch by night. There is so little flesh upon thy bones that thou wouldst not sink in Tiber, and we cannot afford to waste stones in weighting such as thou. Thy withered carcass would not whet the executioner’s knife; there is naught for it but to let thee go. Spend the remainder of thy days as thou hast wasted those that are gone, in longings for martyrdom. Guards! seize your prisoner, and execute sentence upon him.”
The light that had illumined the eyes of the old man slowly faded as the emperor spoke, and great tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks. Clasping his withered hands high above his head, he exclaimed:
“It is not to be—it is not to be! My God, I accept the retribution.”
“What sayest thou?” cried Nero. “Hast thou committed some terrible crime that thou talkest of retribution?”
“Ay, a great crime; but I have suffered much, and striven to make atonement. But my Saviour is not yet satisfied.”
“Accuse thyself. We may be less lenient here than awhile ago.”
The old man’s eyes kindled once more and again he stood erect: “Yes, I will confess,” he cried in a loud voice. “I will let all the world know that he whom his companions have called just is the meanest sinner of them all; I will strive by the whiteness of my gray hairs and the years of sorrow that have passed since that mad day to awaken in thy tyrant heart some pity, some relenting from thy cruel sentence.
“But alas! what do I say? The hand of God is in it—my Saviour refuses me the boon I crave, and thou art but his instrument.” He sighed heavily, wiped the tears from his eyes, and continued in a less agitated voice:
“I am a native of Jerusalem—a descendant of the tribe of Aser; my father was a ruler of much wealth and influence—both of which I inherited. I had luxurious tastes, and gratified them to a certain extent, filling my house with rare and costly furniture and ornaments. I travelled much, and indulged my inclinations to the fullest extent without transgressing the moral law. I esteemed virtue and practised it, more from a sense of pride than a feeling of true religion. I was unmarried and had few intimate friends. One, however, Amri Ephraim, was bound to me by the closest ties of intimacy and association. He was also wealthy. Business called him to Rome about the time our Lord Jesus began to preach the gospel in Galilee. We were both somewhat interested in the new prophet, as he was then called; but from my first meeting with him I was filled with admiration for his teachings, and drawn towards him by an attraction I could not then understand. Alas! I have known its meaning for many sorrowful, repentant years.