“It’s going out,” said Arnobius, “mark my words; the frenzy is dying. It’s only wonderful it should have lasted for three centuries. The report runs that in some places, when the edict was published, the Christians did not wait for a summons, but swept up to the temples to sacrifice, like a shoal of tunnies. The magistrates were obliged to take so many a day; and, as the days went on, none so eager to bring over the rest as those who have already become honest men. Nay, not a few of their mystic or esoteric class have conformed.”

“If so, unless Agellius looks sharp,” said Jucundus, “his sect will give him up before he gives up his sect. Christianity will be converted before him.”

“Oh, don’t fear for him!” said Arnobius; “I knew him at school. Boys differ; some are bold and open. They like to be men, and to dare the deeds of men; they talk freely, and take their swing in broad day. Others are shy, reserved, bashful, and are afraid to do what they love quite as much as the others. Agellius never could rub off this shame, and it has taken this turn. He’s sure to outgrow it in a year or two. I should not wonder if, when once he had got over it, he went into the opposite fault. You’ll find him a drinker and a swaggerer and a spendthrift before many years are over.”

“Well, that’s good news,” said Jucundus; “I mean, I am glad you think he will shake off these fancies. I don’t believe they sit very close to him myself.”

He walked on for a while in silence; then he said, “That seems a sharp child, Arnobius. Could he do me a service if I wanted it? Does he know Agellius?”

“Know him?” answered the other; “yes, and his farm too. He has rambled round Sicca, many is the mile. And he knows the short cuts, and the blind ways, and safe circuits.”

“What’s the boy’s name?” asked Jucundus.

“Firmian,” answered Arnobius. “Firmian Lactantius.”

“I say, Firmian,” said Jucundus to him, “where are you to be found of a day, my boy?”

“At class morning and afternoon,” answered Firmian, “sleeping in the porticoes in midday, nowhere in the evening, and roosting with Arnobius at night.”

“And you can keep a secret, should it so happen?” asked Jucundus, “and do an errand, if I gave you one?”

“I’ll give him the stick worse than Rupilius, if he does not,” said Arnobius.

“A bargain,” cried Jucundus; and, waving his hand to them, he stept through the city gate, and they returned to their afternoon amusements.

CHAPTER IX.
JUCUNDUS BAITS HIS TRAP.