Two hours later, in a humble and densely peopled quarter of the city,such as in our own day we should call a slum, where folk were employedmaking those articles which ministered to the comfort or the luxury ofthe more fortunate, a certain master-carpenter known as Septimus wasseated at his mid-day meal in a little chamber above his workshop.His hands were rough with toil, and the dust of his trade was upon hisgarments and even powdered over his long gray beard, so that at firstsight it would not have been easy to recognise in him that Cyril who wasa bishop among the Christians. Yet it was he, one of the foremost of theFaith in Rome.
A woman entered the room and spoke with him in a low voice.
"The dame Julia, the wife of Gallus, and two others with her?" he said."Well, we need fear none whom she brings; lead them hither."
Presently the door opened and Julia appeared, followed by two veiledfigures. He raised his hands to bless her, then checked himself.
"Daughter, who are these?" he said.
"Declare yourselves," said Julia, and at her bidding Miriam and Nehushtaunveiled.
At the sight of Miriam's face the bishop started, then turned to studythat of her companion.
"Who vouches for this woman?" he asked.
"I vouch for myself," answered Nehushta, "seeing that I am a Christianwho received baptism a generation since at the hands of the holy John,and who stood to pay the price of faith in the arena at Caesarea."
"Is this so?" asked the bishop of Miriam.
"It is so," she answered. "This Libyan was the servant of mygrandmother. She nursed both my mother and myself, and many a time hassaved my life. Have no fear, she is faithful."
"Your pardon," said the bishop with a grave smile and addressingNehushta, "but you who are old will know that the Christian whoentertains strangers sometimes entertains a devil." Then he lifted uphis hands and blessed them, greeting them in the name of their Master.
"So, maid Miriam," he said, still smiling, "it would seem that I was nofalse prophet, and though you walked in the Triumph and were sold in theslave-ring--for this much I have heard--still the Angel of the Lord wentwith you."
"Father, he went with me," she answered, "and he leads me here."
Then they told him all the tale, and how Miriam sought a refuge fromDomitian. He looked at her, stroking his long beard.
"Is there anything you can do?" he asked. "Anything useful, I mean? Butperhaps that is a foolish question, seeing that women--especially thosewho are well-favoured--do not learn a trade."
"I have learnt a trade," answered Miriam, flushing a little. "Once Iwas held of some account as a sculptor; indeed I have heard that yourEmperor Nero decreed divine honours to a bust from my hand."
The bishop laughed outright. "The Emperor Nero! Well, the poor madmanhas gone to his own place, so let us say no more of him. But I heard ofthat bust; indeed I saw it; it was a likeness of Marcus Fortunatus, wasit not, and in its fashion a great work? But our people do not make suchthings; we are artisans, not artists."
"The artisan should be an artist," said Miriam, setting her mouth.
"Perhaps, but as a rule he isn't. Do you think that you could mouldlamps?"
"There is nothing I should like better, that is if I am not forced tocopy one pattern," she added as an afterthought.
"Then," said the bishop, "I think, daughter, that I can show you how toearn a living, where none are likely to seek for you."