Aurelius entered the court just in time to hear his wife saying
To Virgilia in her severest tone: "Thou art exactly like thy
step-brother, Martius, self-willed and foolish. Why else has he
been exiled from Rome by thy father? He has worshipped strange gods,
has followed after a man named Christus, a malefactor, a thief,
crucified with thieves--"

"Mother!" exclaimed Virgilia, and there was that in her voice which
stopped the stream of language, and made Claudia sit up straight and
grasp the griffin-heads on the arms of her chair.

"Wilt tell me that thou, too, art mad over the dead Christus?" she
shrieked. "Then art thou no daughter of mine! Thou shall go forth from
here, homeless, an outcast. Join thyself with the beggarly band of men
and women who hide in the dark places of the earth that they may work
their spells--"

"Claudia, cease thy talking," exclaimed Aurelius, taking his daughter
in his arms. "Canst thou not see that the child is fainting? She is
ill. I saw it but now in the Circus. Hast thou no heart?"

"What, thou, too, Aurelius! Thou art but half a man, and worshipeth
the gods only in form. Long have I suspected that Virgilia had been
infected by this poisonous virus, this doctrine of a malefactor. Thy
son taught it to her, thy son, Martius, who is, thanks to Jupiter, far
away from here."

"Not so, dear mother," said a cheerful voice, "Martius has returned to
his father's house, and to thee and Virgilia."