'But knowest thou, Christian, that in saying that, thou hast condemned thyself to instant death? Was not death the expressed penalty for violation of that law?'
'Truly it was,' answered Macer; 'and what is death to me?'
'I suppose death to be death,' replied Varus.
'Therein thou showest thyself to be in the same darkness as all the rest of this idolatrous city. Death to the Christian, Prefect, is life! Crush me by thy engines, and in the twinkling of an eye is my soul dwelling with God, and looking down with compassion upon thy stony heart.'
'Verily, Fronto,' said Varus, 'these Christians are an ingenious people. What a wonderful fancy is this. But, Christian,' turning to Macer, 'it were a pity surely for thee to die. Thou hast a family as I learn. Would not thy life be more to them than thy death?'
'Less,' said the Christian, 'a thousand fold! were it not a better vision to them of me crowned with a victor's wreath and sitting with Christ, than dwelling here in this new Sodom, and drinking in its pestilential air? The sight of me there would be to them a spring of comfort and a source of strength which here I can never be.'
'But,' added the Prefect, 'it is but right that thou shouldst for the present, if it may be, live here and take care of thy family. They will want thee.'
'God,' replied Macer, 'who feeds the birds of the air, and through all their wanderings over the earth from clime to clime still brings them back to the accustomed home, will watch over those whom I love, and bring them home. Such, Prefect, are the mercies of Rome toward us who belong to Christ, that they will not be left long to bewail my loss.'
'Do thy family then hold with thee?' said Varus.
'Blessed be God, they do.'