"So it is," continued Acte. "I too have read the letters of Paul of
Tarsus, and I know that above the earth is God, and the Son of God, who
rose from the dead; but on the earth there is only Cæsar. Think of this,
Lygia. I know too that thy doctrine does not permit thee to be what I
was, and that to you as to the Stoics,--of whom Epictetus has told me,--
when it comes to a choice between shame and death, it is permitted to
choose only death. But canst thou say that death awaits thee and not
shame too? Hast thou heard of the daughter of Sejanus, a young maiden,
who at command of Tiberius had to pass through shame before her death,
so as to respect a law which prohibits the punishment of virgins with
death? Lygia, Lygia, do not irritate Cæsar. If the decisive moment
comes when thou must choose between disgrace and death, thou wilt act as
thy faith commands; but seek not destruction thyself, and do not
irritate for a trivial cause an earthly and at the same time a cruel
divinity."

Acte spoke with great compassion, and even with enthusiasm; and being a
little short-sighted, she pushed her sweet face up to Lygia's as if
wishing to see surely the effect of her words.

But Lygia threw her arms around Acte's neck with childish trustfulness
and said,--"Thou art kind, Acte."

Acte, pleased by the praise and confidence, pressed her to her heart;
and then disengaging herself from the arms of the maiden, answered,--"My
happiness has passed and my joy is gone, but I am not wicked." Then she
began to walk with quick steps through the room and to speak to herself,
as if in despair.