I am Cyril, a
bishop of the Christians in Rome, and if you will hear me I am come to
preach to you my faith, which, I trust, may yet be yours."
Marcus stared at the man; it was to him a matter of amazement that this
priest should take so much trouble for a stranger. Then a thought struck
him and he asked:
"What fee do you charge for these lessons in a new religion?"
The bishop's pale face flushed.
"Sir," he answered, "if you wish to reject my message, do it without
insult. I do not sell the grace of God for lucre."
Again Marcus was impressed.
"Your pardon," he said, "yet I have known priests take money, though it
is true they were never of your faith. Who told you about me?"
"One, my lord Marcus, to whom you have behaved well," answered Cyril
gravely.
Marcus sprang from his seat.
"Do you mean--do you mean--?" he began and paused, looking round him
fearfully.
"Yes," replied the bishop in a whisper, "I mean Miriam. Fear not, she
and her companions are in my charge, and for the present, safe. Seek to
know no more, lest perchance their secret should be wrung from you. I
and her brethren in the Lord will protect her to the last."
Marcus began to pour out his thanks.
"Thank me not," interrupted Cyril, "for what is at once my duty and my
joy.
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