FABIOLA 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE AGE OF THE CATACOMBS, 
 
 BY 
 
 CARDINAL WISEMAN. 
 
 DRAMATIZED 
 
 BY THE REV. LEWIS GRIFFA. 
 
 
 
 OSWEGO : 
 
 R. J, OLIPHANT, PRINTER. 
 1869. 
 
 / 
 
.W7 f 2 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, on the 29th 
 day of April, 1872, 
 BY REV. LEWIS GRIFFA, 
 
 in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington 
 
*.**" 
 
 $6 
 
 IP IEL IB :F .A. OE - 
 
 All the world knows the late Cardinal Nicholas Wiseman, 
 Archbishop of "Westminster. His celebrity is due not only to 
 his having so highly adorned with his talents and virtues the 
 eminent position which he occupied, but in great part also to the 
 excellency of his various theological and literary productions. 
 Among these, the tale Fabiola, condensed in this volume under 
 the form of a Drama, holds a place, apparently humble, but in 
 reality very remarkable. The principal good feature of this 
 work is the ability and exquisiteness of taste with which the 
 Cardinal managed, and succeeded, to interest the readers, no matter 
 to what class they may belong, about subjects, dry in themselves, 
 and for many, accustomed to seek in novel reading mere diver- 
 sion, almost repulsive. Then, there breathes all through a cer- 
 tain suavity and unction, extremely engaging ; so that, whilst 
 + e reader's mind, as he peruses it, sucks, as it were, with pleas- 
 ure a great deal of historical and archaeological information, he 
 feels enraptured with the attractiveness of the narration, and is 
 naturally brought, either to love the virtues displayed by some of 
 its characters, or to detest the vices of the others. 
 
 Soon after its publication, the fitness of this tale to be turned 
 into a most pleasing and edifying drama, was felt by many. 
 The learned Dr. Oackley was the first that dramatized it. But 
 if, in a literary point of view, the drama was excellent, expe- 
 rience showed that it little responded to the object of its author. 
 It is written in poetry; it has too many unnecessary inci- 
 dents ; there is a great multiplicity of scenes, too difficult to be 
 executed ; thus Dr. Oackley' s drama can scarcely be acted as 
 it is : or, if it is, it becomes tedious and unintelligible to the 
 audience. 
 
 The celebrated Thomas D'Arcy McGee did also dramatize 
 Cardinal Wiseman's Fabiola; taking, however, for his main 
 subject what in it is a mere episode, viz : the martyrdom of St. 
 
IV. 
 
 Sebastian and of St. Pancratius. Hence, he entitled his drama 
 Sebastian. In my opinion, D'Arcy McG-ee's Sebastian has about 
 the same objectionable nature as that of Dr. Oackley's, although 
 it is equally, if not more, valuable as to the literary merit. 
 Moreover, in both there is this inconvenience, that the authors 
 put too much of their own in them, which deprives their pro- 
 ductions of the peculiar charm and irresistible beauty which the 
 Cardinal's own words possess. 
 
 My object in compiling this drama, was to avoid the inconven- 
 iences just expressed, and thus to bring nearer home to the pub- 
 lic, by rendering its execution more practicable, this rejl gem of 
 literature — Cardinal Wiseman's Fabiola. Hence, I introduce 
 scarcely any thing of my own in it ; the dialogues (all prose) 
 being almost entirely taken word by word from the Cardinal's 
 book. In this respect, I may say with truth, this drama is not mine 
 own composition, but his. Then I discarded altogether all mere 
 episodes, and adhered exclusively to the principal subject of the 
 narrative — the gradual conversion to Christianity of Fabiola ; 
 the incidents which brought it about, forming the whole plot, 
 and the final development of the drama. Again, the scenes I 
 introduced, are so very few, so plain, and disposed in such an 
 easy way, that any stage manager will find no difficulty to ar- 
 range them. 
 
 I compiled this drama about ten years ago. Since, it was 
 put in action at six different places, always with great success. 
 It has proved particularly well adapted to Exhibitions of Educa- 
 tional Establishments. Having found that it is very difficult to 
 carry it out well with the help of a simple manuscript, I finally 
 determined to get it printed. 
 
 May God direct it to the good object for which I have intended 
 it. 
 
 Lewis Griffa. - 
 
 Oswego, September, 18G9. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONCE. 
 
 FABIOLA— A Heathen Roman lady. 
 
 AGNES -Fabiola's cousin, a Christian and martyr. 
 
 SYRA— Fabiola's slave, a Christian. 
 
 AFRA— A Negress, Fabiola's slave, a Heathen. 
 
 GRAJA— Another slave. 
 
 CECILIA— A blind girl, Christian and martyr. 
 
 FABIUS-Fabiola's father. 
 
 TERTULLUS-Prefect of Rome. 
 
 CORVINUS-his son, Fabiola's suitor. 
 
 FULVIUS— A spy, Agnes' suitor. 
 
 SEBASTIAN— Captain of the Imperial guards, a 
 
 Christian and martyr. 
 DYONYSIUS-A Priest and Physician. 
 A Deacon. 
 Soldiers. 
 
 Crowd of Christians. 
 Chorus of Virgins. 
 
FABIOLA. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Christians and Heathens Contrasted. 
 
 s c E x E . 
 
 Fabiola' s Reception Room. 
 
 [Fabiola is reclining on a coach, holding in her hand a mirror. Afra 
 is bu*y arranging her hair, and Graja her dress. Syra sits at a 
 Utile distance embroidering. Fabiola wears a stiletto in the folds of 
 her dress. .] 
 
 Afra. How delighted I should be, most noble mis- 
 tress, if I could only be allowed to be here present this 
 evening, t ) observe the brilliant effect of this new cos- 
 metic on your hair ! It has cost me many trials before 
 I could get it perfect. 
 
 Graja. As for me, I should not presume to aspire to 
 so high an honor. I should be satisfied to look from out- 
 side the door, and see the magnificent effect of this won- 
 derful tunic. Nothing can equal its beauty. 
 
 Fabiola. And you, Syra, what would you desire? 
 And what have you to praise of your own doing ? 
 
 Syra. Nothing to desire, noble lady, but that you 
 may be ever happy ; and nothing to praise of my own 
 doing, for I am not conscious of having done more than 
 my duty. 
 
 Fabiola. Methinks, slave, that you are not over 
 given to praise. One seldom hears a soft word from 
 your mouth. 
 
 Syra. And what worth would it be from a poor ser- 
 vant to a noble dame, accustomed to hear it all day long 
 
8 
 
 frem eloquent and polished lips ? But do you believe it 
 when you hear it from them ? Do you not rather 
 despise it, because not always sincere ? 
 
 Fabiola. (Angrily. ) Have you yet to learn, then, 
 that you are mine, and that you must serve me as I 
 please ? I have as good a right to the service of your 
 tongue as of your arms. A new idea, indeed, that a slave 
 has to have any will but that of her mistress, when her 
 very life belongs to her ! 
 
 Syra. True, my lady, my life belongs to you ; and 
 so does all else that ends with life — time, health, vigor, 
 body and breath. All this you have bought with your 
 gold, and it has become your property. But I still hold 
 as my own what no Emperor's wealth can purchase, no 
 chains of slavery fetter, no limits of life contain. 
 
 Fabiola. And what is that ? (Sneeringly.) 
 
 Syra. A soul ! 
 
 Fabiola. A soul!? (Mockingly.) xind what do 
 you mean by the word ? 
 
 Syra. I mean that inward living consciousness within 
 me, which makes me feel to have an existence among 
 better things than surround me, which shrinks from de- 
 struction, which abhors from flattery and detests a lie. 
 
 Fabiola. Who has taught you to prate in this manner ? 
 Do you really fancy that when, after death, your corpse 
 will be thrown on the heap of slaves, you will survive, 
 and have still a life of joy and freedom? 
 
 Syra. I do, noble lady; and more yet, I believe that 
 there is a Power that will cause the four winds of heaven 
 to give back every grain of my dust ; and I shall be 
 built up again in this my very body ; not, indeed, as it is 
 now, but free and joyful and glorious, loving for ever and 
 beloved. '' This certain hope is laid up in my bosom." 
 
 Fabiola. In what school did you learn all this nonsense ? 
 
 Syra. In a school in which there is no distinction be- 
 tween nation and nation, between freeman and slave. 
 
 Fabiola. What? without waiting for that future 
 ideal existence after death, already, even now, you pre- 
 sume to claim equality with me ? Come, tell me at once 
 if you do so or not. 
 
9 
 
 Syra. Most noble mistress, far superior are you in 
 place, power, learning, genius, and in all that embelishes 
 life, to one so lowly and insignificant as I. But if I must 
 answer simple truth to your question .... 
 
 Fabiola. Well, go on. (Impatiently.) 
 
 Syra. Well, I put it to your own judgment, whether 
 a poor slave, who holds an unquenchable consciousness of 
 possessing within her a living intelligence, whose measure 
 of existence is immortality, whose only true place of 
 dwelling is above the skies, whose only rightful pro- 
 totype is the Deity, can hold herself inferior in moral 
 dignity or lower in sphere of thought than one who, 
 however gifted, owns that she claims no higher dignity, 
 no sublimer end than that which awaits, for instance, 
 yonder irrational songster, that beats, without hope of 
 liberty, against the gilded bars of its cage. 
 
 Fabiola. Impertinent ! (She makes a blind thrust 
 at Syra with the stiletto. Syra, putting forward her 
 arms to save her person, receives therein the point.) 
 Go, go now; you need not return here again this eve- 
 ning. 
 
 [Exit Sura and enter Agnes, who, meeting Syra at the door* 
 kisses her wounds, which stains her dress with biood.~] 
 
 Agnes. (To Syra.) I have seen ail. Meet me again 
 when I go out. (To Fabiola.) G-ood evening, cousin. 
 
 Fabiola,. Welcome, dear Agnes ; it is really kind of 
 you to come at my sudden request. The fact is, that my 
 father has this evening some guests at supper, and he 
 wishes to introduce some of them to you and me. 
 
 Agnes. My dear Fabiola, you know I am always 
 happy to visit you ; therefore don't make any apologies 
 about that. 
 
 Fabiola. And so you have come to me, as usual, in 
 your snow-white dress, without jewels or ornament, . . . 
 but — good heavens ! What is this? Are you hurt? It 
 looks like blood ! Let me change your dress. 
 
 Agnes. Not for the world, Fabiola ; it is a true jewel, 
 which I am exceedingly delighted to wear. It is blood, 
 and blood of a slave ; but nobler, in my eyes, than flows 
 in your veins or mine. 
 
10 
 
 Fabiola. Do you then wish to exhibit a proof to all 
 the world of my hastiness of temper in over-chastening a 
 forward slave ? 
 
 Agnes. No, dear cousin : I only wish to preserve for 
 myself a lesson of fortitude and of elevation of mind, 
 such as few philosophers can teach us. 
 
 Fabiola. What a strange idea! Indeed, Agnes, I 
 have often thought that you make too much of that class 
 of people. After all, what are they ? 
 
 Agnes. Human beings as much as ourselves; en- 
 dowed with the same reason, the same feelings, the same 
 organization. Then, they form part of the same family ; 
 and if God, from whom cometh our life, is thereby our 
 father, he is theirs as much ; consequently they are our 
 brethren. 
 
 Fabiola. A slave my brother or sister ? The gods 
 forbid it ! 
 
 Agnes. Come, come, do not let us get into a discus- 
 sion. You are too candid and honorable not to feel that 
 to-day you have been outdone by a slave in mind, in 
 reasoning, in truthfulness and in fortitude. Do not an- 
 swer me. I see it in that tear. Will you grant me, 
 dear cousin, a request ? 
 
 Fabiola. Any in my power. 
 
 Agnes. Allow me to purchase Syra. You will not 
 like to see her about you any more, I guess. 
 
 Fabiola. You are mistaken, Agnes. I will master 
 pride for once, and own that I shall now esteem her, 
 perhaps admire her. It is a new feeling in me towards 
 one of her station. 
 
 Agnes. But, perhaps, Fabiola, I could make her some- 
 what happier than she is. 
 
 Fabiola. No doubt, Agnes; you have the power of 
 making every body happy about you. I never saw such 
 a household as yours. Come, tell me your secret. I 
 suspect, you little magician, possess some secret charm, 
 by which you make every one love you. If you were a 
 Christian, and were exposed in the ampitheatre, I am 
 sure the very leopards would crouch and nestle at your 
 feet — but why do you look so serious, child ? You 
 know I am only joking. 
 
11 
 
 Agnes. Well, well, Fabiola; even such strange things 
 may indeed come to pass. At any rate, if aught so 
 dreadful had to happen, Syra would just be the sort of 
 person one would like to see near one : so you really 
 must let me have her. 
 
 Fabiola. — For heaven's sake, Agnes, do not take my 
 words so seriously; they were spoken in jest. But as 
 for Syra's devotedness you are right. When last summer 
 I was dangerously ill of contagious fever, it required the 
 lash to make the other slaves approach me ; while that 
 poor thing would hardly leave me day and night. 
 
 Agnes. And did you not love her for this? 
 
 Fabiola. Love her ! love a slave, child ! Of course 
 I always take care to reward her ; though I cannot make 
 out what she does with what I give her. The others 
 tell me she has nothing put by ; and she certainly 
 spends nothing on herself. Nay, I have heard she 
 foolishly shares her daily allowance of food with a 
 blind beggar girl. 
 
 Agnes. Dearest Fabiola, she must be mine ! You 
 promised me my request. Name your price, and let 
 me take her home this evening. 
 
 Fabiola. Well, be it so, you most irresistible of 
 petitioners. Send to-morrow some one to see my father's 
 steward, and all will be right. I will now go down stairs 
 and give some orders to my slaves. You please to 
 stay here a little while. [Exit Fabiola. 
 
 Agnes. {Alone.) Now I must see Syra, and tell 
 her the good news. Oh, she must decidedly be mine ! 
 Syra ! [calling,) are you engaged ? [Enter Syra, lead- 
 ing by the hand Cecilia.) 
 
 Syra. I was only putting some food in this my poor 
 friend's basket. 
 
 Agnes. Oh, Cecilia, is it you ? Ah, I know now 
 your secret at last. This is the friend whose food you 
 have always said was so sweet to you. And now, I am 
 very glad to have you present, to hear the good news I 
 bring to Syra. Fabiola has allowed me to become your 
 mistress, Syra, and to take you home with me. To-mor- 
 row you shall be free, and a dear sister to me. 
 
12 
 
 Cecilia. Oh, how good ! How happy you will now 
 be, dear Syra ! 
 
 Syra. O good and gentle lady, you have been kind 
 indeed to think so much about one like me. But pardon 
 me if I entreat you to remain as I am. 
 
 Agnes. But why? 
 
 Syra: Because I think I can serve God better in this 
 my present condition. I own this is not the one in 
 which I was born ; I have been brought to it by others. 
 But so much the more clear is it to me that God has 
 willed me to serve him in this condition. How can I 
 wish to leave it ? 
 
 Agnes. Well then, we can easily manage it. I will 
 not free you ; you shall be my bondswoman. That will 
 be just the same. 
 
 Syra. No, no ; that will never do. Our great Apos- 
 tle's instructions to us are: " Servants, be subject to 
 your masters, not only to the good and gentle, but also to 
 the froward." I am far from saying that my mistress is 
 one of these; but I know that you, noble Agnes, would 
 be too good for me. Where would it be my cross if I 
 lived with you V 
 
 Agnes. Well, Syra, if no motive addressed to your own 
 interest can move you, I'll use a more selfish plea. I 
 want to have you with me, that I may improve by your 
 advice and example. 
 
 Syra. Selfish, lady, you can never be; therefore I 
 will appeal to yourself from your request. You know 
 Fabiola, and you love her. What a noble soul ! What a 
 splendid intellect ! What great qualities and accomplish- 
 ments, if they only reflected the light of truth ! And 
 how jealously does she guard in herself that pearl of vir- 
 tues, which only we know how to prize ! Oh, then, what 
 a truly great Christian she would make ! 
 
 Agnes. And do you hope for it ? 
 
 Syra. It is my prayer day and night. It is, and will 
 always be the occupation of my life. I will try to win 
 her by patience, by assiduity, even by such unusual dis- 
 cussions as we have held to-day. And when all is ex- 
 hausted I have one resource more. 
 
13 
 
 Agnes and Cecilia. And what is that ? 
 
 Syra. To give my life for her conversion. I have 
 placed my life in God's hand for her soul.. Oh, dearest 
 and best of ladies, do not come in thus between me and 
 my prize ! 
 
 Agnes. You have conquered, sister Syra. Oh never 
 call me lady again ! Remain at your post; such virtue 
 must triumph. 
 
 Cecilia. And I say that she has said one very wicked 
 thing, and told a great story just a wjaile ago. 
 
 Syra. What is that, my pet ? / 
 
 Cecilia. Why, you said that I was wiser and better 
 than you. How could you tell me such a thing, while 
 you give up liberty, happiness, the free exercise of reli- 
 gion and life itself, for the salvation of one who is your 
 tyrant ? 
 
 Agnes. Well, well, I'll settle this pretty quarrel. 
 The Lord said : "He is greater among you, that is 
 meaner in his own estimation." Let us then vie with 
 each other in humility. Now you may go, dear sisters. 
 
 Syra and Cecilia. The Lord be with you, Agnes. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Agnes. And with your spirit. 
 
 [Enter Fabiola. 
 
 Fabiola. My father and our visitors will come in 
 presently, Agnes. 
 
 Agnes. But you have not put on all your usual 
 jewels ! 
 
 Fabiola. Never mind them : I feel no taste for them 
 to-day. 
 
 Fabius. (Outside, boisterously.) Come in, come in, 
 gentlemen. 
 
 [Enter Fabius, then Ficlvius and Corvinus, and, Iast,Tertidlus and 
 Sebastian, ,] 
 
 Fabius. (Pompously.) My dear young ladies, I have 
 the pleasure to introduce to you Master Corvinus, the 
 worthy son of our illustrious Prefect Tertullus, who has 
 honored us with his presence this evening, and Master 
 Fulvius, who came lately from the East highly recom- 
 mended to our Emperor for having discovered there a 
 
14 
 
 conspiracy against his Divine Majesty. Two splendid 
 matches (laughs) for the two noblest ladies in Rome 1 
 You know already the valiant Captain of the Emperor's 
 Guards, Sebastian. 
 
 [He points out the several gentlemen according as he mentions them. 
 The ladies bow civilly but coolly to Corvinus, Fulvius and Ter- 
 nellies, and more courteously to Sebastian.'] 
 
 Fabiola. I consider myself highly honored by this 
 introduction to gentlemen so much esteemed by my re- 
 vered father. Gentlemen, please be seated. 
 
 [Sebastian goes towards Agnes, and sits near her, and Fabiola in- 
 tentionally takes a chair, and goes to sit near him. Corvinus and 
 Fulvius show disappointment.] 
 
 Fabius. Our valorous Prefect has brought us, la- 
 dies, capital news ; the Thermoe of Dioclesian will be fin- 
 ished in three years Excellent waters for bathing there ! 
 
 [Rubs his hands. 
 
 Fabiola. — I am always delighted with any thing that 
 affords pleasure to my beloved father. 
 
 Tertullus. Several thousands of Christians will be set 
 immediately to that work ; and they will soon bring it to 
 an end. [Sebastian and Agnes look at each other, 
 smiling.) 
 
 Fulvius. They were all implicated in the late con- 
 spiracy discovered by me. 
 
 Fabiola. But why will Christians do this work better 
 than other criminals ? 
 
 Tertullus. Ordinary convicts naturally do not love 
 their work, and they require the lash at every step to 
 compel them to perform it; then, they are generally rude, 
 sottish and querulous. But the Christians., I do not 
 know how, seem to work with joy, and they are ordina- 
 rily very tame : moreover, among them there are always 
 many endowed with much skill and talent. Of course, 
 for all that, the overseers apply the lash and the stick 
 very freely to them. Such is the will of our divine Em- 
 peror, that their lot be made as hard as possible. 
 
 Fabiola. I cannot say that I admire this sort of 
 justice. 
 
15 
 
 Fulvius. Perhaps, madam, you have never heard of 
 the horrible crimes of which the Christians are guilty. 
 
 Fabiola. Indeed I have not ; nor have I ever read 
 their history either. 
 
 Tertullus. My son Corvinus, just come home from the 
 best Academy of Athens, can tell you that history, 
 Madam. 
 
 Fabius. Oh yes, tell U3 ; it must be very interesting. 
 
 [Rubbing his hands. 
 
 Corvinus. {He rises and bows to ihe company in a 
 pompous but stupid way.) Ladies and gentlemen, 
 You must know that the Christians are a foreign sect, 
 the founder of which flourished many years ago in 
 Ghaldea. His doctrines were brought to Eome at the 
 time of Vespasian by two brothers named Peter and 
 Paul. Some maintain that these were the same twin 
 brothers whom the Jews call Moses and Aaron, the sec- 
 ond of whom sold his birthright to his brother for a kid, 
 the skin of which he wanted to make gloves of. But the 
 identity I do not admit, as it is recorded in the mystical 
 books of the Jews, that the second of these brothers, see- 
 ing the other's victims give better omens of bird than his 
 own, slew him, as Romulus did Remus, but with the 
 jaw-bone of an ass; for which he was hung by King 
 Mardocheus of Macedon, at the suit of their sister Judith. 
 However, Peter and Paul coming, as I said, to Rome, the 
 former was discovered to be a fugitive slave of Pontius 
 Pilate, and was crucified by his master's orders. Their 
 followers, of whom they had many, made the cross their 
 symbol, and adore it ; and they think it the greatest hon- 
 or to suffer stripes and even death, as the best means of 
 being like their teachers, and, as they fancy, of going 
 somewhere in the clouds. 
 
 Sebastian. {Ironically.) A very lucid explanation 
 indeed of Christianity ! {To Agnes.) Shall I answer the 
 goose ? 
 
 [Agnes, putting her finger to her mouth, implores him to be silent.'] 
 Fulvius. Rut the worse about the Christians is, that 
 they are the greatest enemies of the Roman empire. 
 
 [Sebastian puts his hand on his sword ; but Agnes again wins him 
 to keep quiet.] 
 
16 
 
 Corvinus. Ah ! the scoundrels ! They would fain 
 destroy us all, if they could. [Fabius shudders.) Did 
 they not burn Rome under Nero ? And in what do you 
 think their principal act of worship consists ? In slaying 
 a child and then eating its flesh and drinking its blood ! 
 
 Fabiola and Fabius. Horrible ! 
 
 [Sebastian gives new signs of impatience.^ 
 
 Fulvius. Captain Sebastian [sarcastically) seems to 
 think differently about these Christians. 
 
 Sebastian. Indeed, I think that if they really are such 
 a foolish and wicked race as you have described them to 
 be, they deserve to be exterminated. But, even so, I 
 would give them at least one chance. 
 
 Fulvius. And what is that ? 
 
 Sebastian. That no one be allowed to join in de- 
 stroying them who could not prove himself freer from 
 crime than they. I would have no one raise his hand 
 against them, who cannot show that he has never been an 
 extortioner, a deceiver, a drunkard, a profligate or a 
 thief; for, of being any of these, no one charges the poor 
 Christians. 
 
 Fulvius. [Piqued.) The Emperor will soon give 
 them a better chance to clear themselves, there on the 
 arena of the Ampithcatre. A brave soldier like you will 
 be delighted to see their struggles with the wild beasts of 
 the forest. 
 
 Sebastian. Fulvius, I should ill deserve the title you 
 give me, could I contemplate with pleasure and in cold 
 blood the struggle between a brute beast and a helpless 
 child or woman ; for, such are the spectacles of the Am- 
 pitheatfe. I will draw my sword willingly against any 
 enemy of the princes or of the empire ; but I would as 
 readily draw it against the lion or the leopard that should 
 rush, even by imperial order, against the innocent and 
 the defenceless. 
 
 Fabiola. The Captain is right, I think. 
 
 Agnes. [To Fabiola.) Cousin, you will never hear 
 Sebastian speak, except to express generous and high- 
 minded sentiments. But I feel fatigued ; I would like to 
 retire. 
 
17 
 
 Fabiola. I too. (To Fabius.) Dear father, I do 
 not feel quite well. I should like to retire earlier this 
 evening 
 
 Fabius. Very well, very well. (To the oUiers.) 
 Come friends, let us to the baths. 
 
 Sebastian. Noble Fabius, excuse me this time; the 
 duties of my office call me elsewhere. 
 
 [Exit Fabiola, bowing coolly to the other gentlemen, bat shaking 
 hands warmly ivith Sebastian, and embracing Agnes affectionately. 
 Exeunt Fabius, Tertullus, Corvinus and Fabius.] 
 
 Sebastian. (To Agnes.) How shocking, Agnes, to 
 find even learned men believing at once every calumny, 
 every fable, every fiction about us Christians, without 
 ever thinking of examining whether they are true ; just 
 because they have made up their minds that we must be 
 all that is low, wicked and detestable ! 
 
 Agnes. True, Sebastian ; but we must remember 
 that our blessed Redeemer has not been better treated by 
 men than we are. 
 
 Sebastian. Thank you, Agnes, for your just remark. 
 God be with you. 
 
 Agnes. And with your spirit. (Exeunt. Curtain 
 falls.) 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. . . THE FORUM. 
 
 [A board is see?i hanging at the Fretorium, ivith traces of a wri- 
 ting, now torn, which contained the imperial decree of 'persecution 
 against the Christians. 
 
 Enter Fulvius, dragging forcibly by the arm Torquaius, icho has 
 no hat, and bears signs of recent revelry and drunkenness.'] 
 
 Torquatus. Now, what do you want with me ? Let 
 me go. Are you not satisfied with having got all my 
 money ? 
 
 Fulvius. Ah yes, I have got it, and in a lawful game. 
 Here it is! (Takes purse from his pocket and makes 
 the coin jingle to Torquatus'* ear.) And, you see, you 
 are now a beggar, a ruined gamester. But it is to tell 
 
18 
 
 you something else that I have taken you here apart. 
 Do you see there (pointing hack to the board) that im- 
 perial edict of persecution against the Christians, which 
 will be a law for the whole empire from to-morrow's 
 daylight ? 
 
 Torquatus. I see no decree there. But what with 
 that ? 
 
 Fulvius. Are you not a Christian ? 
 
 Torquatus. No, no ! (in despair.) 
 
 Fulvius. (Laughing sarcastically.) You may as 
 well say so, after your conduct to-night at the gambling 
 house. But you are a Christian nevertheless ; in your 
 drunkenness you have told us all ; only you are now de- 
 graded ; you have disgraced your religion, and betrayed 
 it too. 
 
 Torquatus. (With anguish.) Ah! they will for- 
 give me still. God. . . 
 
 Fulvius. Silence ! Utter not that name, hypocrite. 
 
 Torquatus. But why do you torment me thus ? If 
 all that you say is true, what is it to you ? 
 
 Fulvius. A great deal, sir. Do you not see that you 
 have betrayed yourself into my power completely ? 
 I am master of your money, of your character, of your 
 life. I have only to let your fellow Christians know 
 what you have done, what you have said, what you have 
 been to-night in our company, and you dare no more 
 face them. I have only to let that (v bully," that " big 
 brute," as you called Corvinus at the gambling table — 
 but who is the son of the Prefect of Home — loose upon 
 you (and no one else can now restrain him after such 
 provocation) and to-morrow you will be standing before 
 his father's tribunal to die for that religion you have dis- 
 graced, and just now denied to me. Are you ready now 
 to reel and stagger as a drunken gambler, to represent 
 your Christianity before the judgment seat in this fo- 
 rum?. . . . (Silence.) Well, have you made your choice, 
 either to go at once to the Christians with to-night on 
 your head, or to-morrow to the Court? Which do you 
 choose ? 
 
 Torquatus. (Imploringly.) Oh neither ! 
 
19 
 
 Fulvius. Come then, what will you do ? 
 
 Torquatus. What you like, only neither of those two 
 things. 
 
 Fulvius. [Soothingly.) Now, Torquatus, listen to 
 me; do as I tell you, and all is mended. You shall have 
 house, and food, and apparel, and money too, if you will 
 only do my bidding. 
 
 Torquatus. And what is that? 
 
 Fulvius. You must answer truth to my questions ; 
 then, put on your Christian face, and do what I tell 
 you. 
 
 Torquatus. {In great anguish.) Oh ! a traitor at 
 last! 
 
 Fulvius. Call it what you wish : that or death !. . . . 
 I hear some one coming. . . .quick : which is to be? 
 
 Torquatus. {Cowardly.) Not death! any thing 
 else? 
 
 Fulvius. When are the Christians to have one of their 
 solemn meetings ? 
 
 Torquatus. The day after to-morrow, at day-break. 
 
 Fulvius. Where? {Torquatus hesitates.) Where? 
 I say. 
 
 Torquatus. In a subterranean cemetery, near Via 
 Appia. 
 
 Fulvius. Now, the day after to-morrow {emphatically) 
 'at day-break, thou shalt lead me and a few other gentle- 
 men thither. Agreed ? 
 
 Torquatus. Agreed. 
 
 Fulvius. Here is some of your money [give it) : You 
 shall have more if all is right; but remember to put on 
 your Christian face well. 
 
 [Exit Torquatus. 
 
 Fulvius. {Alone.) What a good luck I had in meet- 
 ing this fellow at the gambling house ! . . Now, [musing) . . 
 Ah ! it is the very High Priest of these Christians I shall 
 pounce upon there ; or, at any rate, I shall surely catch 
 some fat one among them ; thus, half my fortune will be 
 made. As to Agnes, if she is really a Christian, as the 
 report is, I will find her there : and, either she consents 
 to be mine, or I will accuse, her and get her confiscated 
 
20 
 
 property. And now {musing again,) let me see. .yes. . 
 I hear she is at her villa. I will go this very morning 
 there, and try my chance with her. Who knows but I 
 may win her? Haides, speed me ! (Exit.) 
 
 [Enter Corvinus, accompanied by some soldiers.'] 
 
 Corvinus. [Finding the sentinel asleep.] Oh ! oh ! 
 sleeping, sentinel V [Awakes him-] But. .[perceiving 
 the edict torn away] what? the edict torn away? Ohe 1 
 sirrah ! [Shaking him by the arm.] How has that doc- 
 ument disappeared ? 
 
 Soldier. Softly, softly, sir; is it not there where you 
 left it in my charge? 
 
 Corvinus. Where, you fool ? Look ! 
 
 Soldier. [Looking stupidly to the beard.] Well, is 
 not that the board you huog up last night ? 
 
 Corvinus. Yes, you blockhead ; but there was wri- 
 ting on it, which is gone. That is what you had to 
 guard. 
 
 Soldier. Why, look you, Captain, as to writing, you 
 see, I know nothing, having never been a scholar. 
 
 Corvinus. Come, come ; this is no joking matter. 
 Tell me at once who came here last night ? 
 
 Soldier. Why, two of them came. 
 
 Corvinus. Two of what ? 
 
 Soldier. Two wizards, or goblins, or worse. 
 
 Corvinus. None of that nonsense for me. Tell me 
 what sort of people were they, and what did they ? 
 
 Soldier. One of them was but a stripling, a boy, tall 
 and thin, and went around, and, I suppose, took away 
 what you miss, while I was busy with the other. 
 
 Corvinus. And what of him ? What was he like ? 
 
 Soldier. Why, if he was not the head-goblin itself, he 
 wasn't far from it. I never felt such strength. 
 
 Corvinus. What did he do to show it? 
 
 Soldier. He came up first, and began to chat quite 
 friendly, when I remembered that I had to run through 
 any one that came near me. . 
 
 Corvinus. Exactly : but why did you not do it ? 
 
 Soldier. He wouldn't let me. I told him to be off, or 
 I should spear him, and I drew back and stretched my 
 
21 
 
 javelin ; when, in the quietest manner, I don't know 
 how, he twisted it out of my hand, broke it over his 
 knee, and dashed the pieces fifty yards off. 
 
 Corvinus. Then why did you not rush on him with 
 your sword?. .But, I see, you have no sword ! Where 
 is it? 
 
 Soldier. There ; don't you see it shining on the tiles 
 of the pretorium ? 
 
 Corvinus. How did it get there ? 
 
 Soldier. He, or it, whatever it was, whisked it out of 
 my hand, and up. .where you see it, as if it had been a 
 play ball. 
 
 Corvinus, And then ? 
 
 Soldier. And then, he and the boy, who came back 
 just at the moment, walked off in the dark. 
 
 Corvinus. [To himself.'] Oh ! surely, they were 
 two Christians ! [To the soldier.'] But why did you 
 not give the alarm, and rouse the other guards to pursuit ? 
 
 Soldier. First, Master Kor . . Korn . . winer, because 
 in my country we never pursue hobgoblins; secondly, 
 what was the use ? I saw that the board you gave into 
 my care, was there safe and sound . . 
 
 Corvinus. Stupid barbarian ! This business will go 
 hard with you. It is a capital offence. You will have 
 to answer to the Emperor for it. 
 
 Soldier. [With a hole of sly stolidity] Look you 
 now, sir ; as to that, we are pretty well in the same boat. 
 You must contrive some way of saving me, if you want to 
 save yourself. ' 
 
 Corvinus. Oh rage ! Well, [softening] I must make 
 it out that a strong body of those savage Christians at- 
 tacked you and killed you at your post. So, you go ; 
 shut yourselves up in the quarters for a few days. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 SCENE II. AGNES' VILLA. GARDEN. 
 
 [Agnes carries a wreath of flowers, and a basket half fall of 
 flowers.] 
 
 [Enter Agnes and St/ra.] 
 
 Agnes. Welcome, Syra, to my Villa. Is Fabiola 
 coming ? 
 
22 
 
 Syra. She is. She was to leave home soon after 
 myself. 
 
 Agnes. Please, then, to go and prepare her room ; and 
 when she comes, call me. I will finish my little collec- 
 tion of flowers, to make wreaths for our consecration of 
 to-morrow. 
 
 [Exit Syra. Enter Fulvius from the opposite side. Agnes starts 
 when she perceives Ids presence.'] 
 
 Fulvius. Excuse my intrusion, fair lady. I came for 
 a ride out of the Nomentan gate, and, when I found my- 
 self near your villa, I could not but dismount and call, 
 in order to renew to you the expression of my sincere 
 regard. (A short silence.) What a bright and fair 
 day ! Isn't it, my lady ? 
 
 Agnes. Fair, indeed, and bright it is to me; and the 
 sun will give me, I hope, one more fair still. 
 
 Fulvius. The day, I suppose you mean, of your 
 espousals with one who may have won your heart. 
 
 Agnes. Oh yes ! 
 
 Agnes. And was that wreath woven in anticipation 
 of such a happy hour ? 
 
 Agnes. Oh ! it is the sign my beloved will place upon 
 my countenance that I may recognize no lover but himself. 
 
 Fulvius. And who is this happy being? I was not 
 without hopes, nor will I renounce them yet, that I have 
 a place in your thoughts, perhaps in your affections. 
 
 Agnes. He, whose beauty sun and moon in their lofty 
 firmament gaze on and admire, to him, to him alone is 
 pledged my love. • 
 
 Fulvius. But, Madam, you are trifling with one who 
 sincerely admires and loves you. I sincerely and earn- 
 estly solicit your hand. I may seem abrupt and infor- 
 mal ; but I am sincere. \_He drops on his knees before 
 her. 
 
 Agnes. Begone, begone from me, food of corruption; 
 already a lover has secured by heart, whose love is chaste, 
 whose caress is pure, whose brides never put off their 
 original wreaths. 
 
 Fulvius. (Rising up with spite and fury ) Is it not 
 enough to be rejected, but must insult be heaped on me 
 
23 
 
 too ? And must I be told to my face that another has 
 
 been before me ? 
 
 g|pN [Enter Fcibiola, suddenly.] 
 
 t%Fabiola. Who are you that dare thus to intrude upon 
 
 the privacy of my kinswoman's rural retreat ? 
 
 Fulvius. And who are you who take upon yourself to 
 be imperious mistress in another's house ? 
 
 Fabiola. One who feels herself bound in honor and 
 duty to shield her cousin from your wicked designs. [She 
 takes Agnes by the hand and leads her away.) Come, 
 Agnes, and let him there a prey to his disappointment. 
 ^Fulvius. {Gnashing his teeth and mattering audi* 
 bly.) Haughty Roman dame ! Thou shalt bitterly rue 
 this day and hour. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 TKCE PERSECUTION. 
 SCENE, THE CATACOMBS. 
 {Enter procession of Christians, Virgins already consecrated, Clergy, 
 Dyonysius and his Deacon, and at last Agnes and Syra, who 
 carry each a wreath of flowers and a white veil. The chant of 
 Jesu Corona Virginum is heard before the procession comes out, 
 and continues till all have taken their respective places. Agnes and 
 Syra place themselves before the platform on ivhich Dyonysius 
 stands. ,] 
 
 Dyonysius. Brethren, some young women desire to 
 join the Chorus of our holy virgins. 
 
 The Crowd. Thanks be to God ! 
 
 Dyonysius. O how high a calling is theirs ! To lead 
 on earth the life of angels ! To tread the same chaste 
 path to Heaven which the incarnate Son of God chose 
 for Himself and for His own Mother ! To be received 
 into the pure ranks of the host "that follows the Lamb 
 whithersoever he goeth." But, that you all, and espe- 
 cially these good virgins, may better appreciate their 
 holy state of life, my Deacon will read you the instruc- 
 tions which the great Apostle St. Paul left to us on this 
 subject in the 7th chapter of his Epistle to the Corin- 
 thians. 
 
24 
 
 Deacon. (Reiding.) "Concerning virgins, I have no 
 commandment of the Lord; but I give counsel as having 
 obtained mercy of the Lord to be faithful. I think, 
 therefore, that it is good so to be. I would have you to 
 be without solicitude. He that is with a wife is solicitous 
 for the things of the world, and he is divided ; and she 
 that is married, thinketh on the things of the world. 
 But the unmarried and the virgin thinketh of the things 
 of the Lord. 
 
 And this I speak for your profit ; not to cast a snare 
 upon you ; but that you may have power to attend upon 
 the Lord without impediment. 
 
 Therefore he that giveth his virgin in marriage doeth 
 well; and he that giveth her not doeth better, according 
 to my counsel : and I think that I have the spirit of God." 
 Dyonysius. Now, my daughters, (addressing Agnes 
 and Syra) declare what you ask from the Church of God. 
 Agnes and Syra. [Kneeling before the Priest ] Fath- 
 er, we ask the sacred veil; because we intend, with the 
 help of God, to choose for our only and eternal spouse 
 our Savior, his Divine Son, and embrace the state of 
 virginity. 
 
 Dyonysius. Thanks be to God ! 
 The Whole Crowd.— Thanks be to God ! 
 Dyonysius. And may the grace of God assist you to 
 fulfil your engagement faithfully to the end of your lives ! 
 [Putting the veil on them'] And let this veil be an em- 
 blem of that modesty which you must observe, in order 
 that you may preserve unsullied the purity of your life. 
 [Putting the wreath of flowers on their heads.] And 
 may your life, like these pure and unspotted flowers, be, 
 as the Apostle Paul recommends, "good odour of Christ." 
 Agnes and Syra. Amen. [Withdrawing. When 
 Cecilia arrives in a hurry. 
 
 Cecilia, [Seizing each of them by the hand, and 
 throwing herself down at the feet of the priest.] Holy 
 Father, I also wish to receive the veil of consecration, 
 under the care of these two holy virgins. [Agnes and 
 Syra look surprised and overwhelmed w'thjoy and ten- 
 derness] 
 
25 
 
 Dyonysius. Thanks be to God! [Etc., etc. as before ; 
 when Tie is about putting on the wreath^ seeing that she 
 has none.] Have you not brought the wreath of flowers ? 
 
 Cecilia. I had not at hand any flowers ; but my di- 
 vine Bridegroom had not any either. I am but a poor 
 girl; and I hope my Lord will not be offended if I ask 
 Him to crown me, as He was pleased to be crowned him- 
 self, with a crown of thorns. [She shows from under 
 her handkerchief the crown of thorns ; Agnes and Syra. 
 try to take from her the crown, and to put on her head 
 their own wreath, but the priest checks them'] 
 
 Dyonysius. Let it be so. [Putting the crow?i upon 
 her head] And may this crown be a sign that thou 
 wilt try to resemble in purity and, if necessary, in suffer- 
 ing, thy Divine Spouse ! 
 
 The Crowd. Amen. 
 
 Sebastian. [Bushes in with great haste-] Disperse, 
 brethren, as quick as possible. Fulvius, led by Torqua- 
 tus, who has turned a traitor, is coming with a strong 
 body of soldiers to seize upon you. 
 
 The Crowd. The will of God be done 1 
 
 Dyonysius. Let us all, then, in good order, get out 
 through the secret outlet behind, which you all know. 
 
 Sebastian. I volunteer to be the last, and to let down 
 the trap door, when you are all out. 
 
 Cecilia. And I, to hold the lantern. You know I 
 need no light. 
 
 Dyonysius. [Gives lantern to Cecilia.'] Put out all 
 tapers now : and may God speed us ! 
 
 [Exeunt, Cecilia preceding with lantern.] 
 
 Fulvius [Outside.] Go on, my fellows, don't fear. 
 
 [Enter soldiers cautiously and timidly. Torquatus precedes them, 
 holding a lighted torch.] 
 
 One Soldier. I don't like this underground work. 
 I am a soldier, and not a rat-catcher. Bring me my man 
 into the light of day, and I will fight him hand to hand, 
 and foot to foot; but I have no love for beiug stifled or 
 poisoned, like vermin ia a drain. 
 
 Another soldier. There may be hundreds of these skulk- 
 ing Christians down here, and we are only half a dozen. 
 
Another. This is not the sort of work we r 
 
 pay 
 
 for. 
 
 eceive our 
 
 Another. It's their sorceries I care for, and 
 valor. 
 
 not tiieir 
 
 Cor vinus. Don't 
 
 I tell you. These cowardly 
 Christians will run before you like hares. Then, you 
 will find in their Church more gold and silver than a 
 year's pay will give you. Go on . . 
 
 [They advance inside. Torquatus stops at the entrance, as it were, 
 of the corridor, into which the soldiers venture. Sadderdr/ the 
 noise is heard of the trap door closing at a distance. The sol- 
 diers, frightened at it and at the sudden appearance of Cecilia, 
 take to flight backward, saying :] 
 
 All ih e soldiers. [Confusedly.] A sorceress ! a ; spirit ! 
 
 iiway ! 
 Cor vinus. [To Cecilia] 
 
 quick ! 
 
 Cecilia. 
 Fidvius. 
 Cecilia. 
 Fulvius. 
 
 Cecilia. 
 
 Fulvius. 
 
 Who are you ' 
 others ? 
 
 A Christian ! 
 
 Where are the 
 They are safe ! 
 Agnes too ? 
 Yes, thank God ! 
 
 rage ! Bat now she can no 
 
 more escape 
 What were 
 
 me. In a few hours she will be in prison. 
 you now doing ? 
 
 Cecilia. Guiding my friends out to safety. 
 
 Fidvius. Well, look at me, woman, and tell me the 
 truth. 
 
 Cecilia. I must tell you the truth without looking at 
 you, sir; because I am blind. 
 
 Fidvius. Blind ! How long have you been blind V 
 
 Cecilia. All my life. 
 
 Fulvius.* What is your history ? 
 
 Cecilia. I have no history. My parents were poor, 
 and brought me to Rome when I was four years old, as they 
 came to pray at the tomb of the Blessed Martyr Chrys- 
 antus and Daria. It was on that memorable day, when 
 many Christians were buried at that tomb by earth and 
 stones cast down on them by the heathens. My parents 
 had the happiness to be among them. 
 
 Fulvius. And how have you lived since V 
 
27 
 
 Cecilia. God became my only father, and his Church 
 my mother. 
 
 Fidvius. Well, well: [impatient, shaking her arm 
 in his grasp.] Do you know now whither you must go ? 
 
 Cecilia. To my spouse in heaven, I hope ; because 
 you seem to be one of those who came here to take the 
 Christians before the judge. He will condemn me to 
 death, I suppose. 
 
 Fulvius. And you say that so calmly ? 
 
 Cecilia. Quite joyfully. 
 
 [Enter Tertullus with soldiers.'] 
 
 Tertullus. Well, Fulvius, have you caught any ? 
 
 Fulvius. But one at present — this blind girl. But I 
 discovered enough to compensate our present failure. I 
 lay now before you the accusation, claiming my right to 
 the spoil. Lady Agnes is a Christian. 
 
 Tertullus Is she ? Well, Claudius, [to one of the sol- 
 diers] go directly, take hold of her, and put her safe in the 
 Mamestine prison. [The soldier goes ] As for this in- 
 significant game [Cecilia,] it would be ridiculous to 
 march through the city guarding her. We can try her 
 here, and get rid of her at once. 
 
 Fulvius She is at your disposal. If you have no ob- 
 jection, I will go and see that Agnes be duly secured. 
 
 Tertullus Well. [Exit Fulvius.] What is thy 
 name, child? [To Cecilia.] 
 
 Cecilia. Cecilia. 
 
 Tertullus. It is a noble name. 
 
 Cecil'a. I am not noble; except because my parents, 
 though poor, died for Christ. As I am blind, those who 
 took care of me, called me with the Latin word Cceca, 
 and then, out of kindness, they softened it into Cecilia. 
 
 Tertullus. But now, give up all this folly of the 
 Christians Honor the decrees of the Divine Emperor, 
 and offer sacrifices to the gods ; and thou shalt have 
 riches and fine clothes, and good fare ; and the best phy- 
 sicians shall try to restore thee thy sight. 
 
 Cecilia. I thank God that I am poor and meanly clad, 
 and fare not daintily, because so I am the more like my 
 divine spouse. 
 
28 
 
 Tertullus. Foolish girl ! Come ; let me have no more 
 of this silly prattle. Obey the Emperor at once, or I 
 must try what a little pain will do. That will soon tame 
 thee. 
 
 Cecilia. Pains ! ? Neither torments, nor death shall 
 separate me from the love of Christ. I can offer up no 
 sacrifices but to the one "living God ; and its ready obla- 
 tion is myself! 
 
 Tertullus. Soldiers, drag her out in that corridor, and 
 despatch her at once. [They do so] 
 
 Cecilia. [While she is dragged away.] Thank 
 God ! 
 
 Sebastian. [From inside.] Impious tyrant ! A poor 
 blind Christian girl has more power over life and death 
 than thou or thy cruel masters. 
 
 Tertullus. [Looking around with surprise and rage.] 
 Who dares to speak so ? 
 
 Sebastian. [Appearing.] I. 
 
 Tertullus. You, Captain, you turned a traitor — a 
 Christian, perhaps ? 
 
 Sebistian. Yes, I am a Christian; but not a traitor. 
 
 Tertullus. How do you prove that ? 
 
 Sebastian. What could have prevented me at any 
 time from acting the traitor, if I had been one ? Have 
 I not had access to the Emperor's person by night as by 
 day ; and have I proved a traitor ? No, sir, none has 
 ever been more faithful than I to his Majesty or to the 
 State. But I have another and a higher Lord to serve 
 at the same time; one who will judge us all ; and His 
 laws I must obey rather than the Emperor's, when they 
 conflict together. 
 
 Tertullus. And why have you, like a coward, con- 
 cealed your religion? To escape, I suppose, the bitter 
 death you deserved ? 
 
 Sebastian. No, sir ; no more coward than traitor. 
 So long as I could do any good to my brethren, I did not 
 refuse to live amidst their carnage and my affliction, ful- 
 filling at the same time faithfully all the duties of my 
 office, compatible with my religious belief. Bat now, 
 that your precipitate incursion did not allow me sufficient 
 
time to place in safety my fellow Christians, without let- 
 ting the door, through which they went out, fall on my- 
 self, beyond hope of escape, I am ready to die, if neces- 
 sary ; and I thank you and Fulvius for the opportunity 
 you procured to me of joining in the same glorious death 
 this heroic maiden, whom I imitated in the sacrifice 
 made for the salvation of others. 
 
 Tertullus. Well, you will he satisfied, if death is 
 what you want; but, not like this silly thing, you shall 
 die a slow, lingering death. Such is the order of the 
 Emperor in regard to criminals of your degree of guilt. 
 
 Sebastian. Thank you, I repeat ; and to the Em- 
 peror ! 
 
 Tertullus. Soldiers, you will take Sebastian to your 
 quarters; and early in the morning, when your hands 
 are steady, you will tie him to a tree in the grove of 
 Adonis, and you will slowly shoot him to death. Slowly, 
 mind. Now'take him oft carefully. 
 
 Sebastian. I will not run away ; you need not fear 
 that. I will go of my own accord to the place of execu- 
 tion, and kiss the blessed tree, and welcome every arrow. 
 
 Tertu 7 lus. [Sneeringly.] We'll see. [Exeunt- Cur- 
 tain drops] 
 
 ACT IV! 
 
 PERSECUTION STILL. 
 
 SCENE I. FABIOLA'S ROOM. 
 [Fabiola and Syra sltilnj. Fabiola holds a piece of parchment.] 
 
 Fabiola. I must show you. Syra, a strange writing I 
 found the other day at lady Agnes' villa, among her 
 books. It puzzled me greatly ever since. [Syra, after 
 looking at the writing, rises vp and kisses it.'] Now, 
 now, Syra, what are you doing V 
 
 Syra. Permit me to stand, my lady, when [ read this, 
 
 Fabicla. How many little fancies you have ! Well, 
 read on. 
 
 Syra. [Beading.'] "I say to you: love your en. 
 mies ; do good to them that hate yen, and pray for then 
 
 e- 
 
30 
 
 that persecute and calumniate you ; that you may be the 
 children of your Father who is in heaven, who maketh 
 his sun rise on the good and the bad, and raineth upon 
 the just and the unjust." Mat. 8 : 14. [Syra gives 
 back the parchment to Fabiola ] It seems to me quite 
 plain, all this, my dear Mistress. 
 
 Fabiola. [Disippointed.'] Yes : but that very plain- 
 ness gives me trouble. My natural feelings revolt against 
 this sentiment. To forgive, at most, would be much ; 
 but to do good in return for evil, seems to me an unnat- 
 ural exaction from human nature. Yet, while I feel all 
 this, I am conscious that I have been brought to esteem 
 you for having practised quite the reverse of what I am 
 naturally impelled to expect 
 
 Syra Oh ! Do not talk of me, pray; but look at 
 the simple principle. You honor it in others, you say ; 
 then it must contain a great truth. 
 
 Fabioli. Do you, then, mean to say, that we must 
 hold this truth as a common moral principle ? 
 
 Syra. Of course, I do. 
 
 Fabiola, That is sublime ! I own it. And I under- 
 stand also that, when one acts so, one often finds in his 
 very action his reward ; for, the world will praise him as 
 a hero, and his act is recorded and handed down as 
 memorable to the posterity. But what enticement has 
 he so to act, who in humble secrecy . performs such a 
 noble action ? 
 
 Syra. [Bising up and with enthusiasm J His Father, 
 who is in heaven, sees him and will requite him. You 
 had it in that writing already. 
 
 Fabiola. Again, Syra, you have conquered my phi- 
 losophy. But, do you believe, after all {smiling) in Ju- 
 piter, Juno, Minerva and the like? Or can you really 
 suppose that they have anything to do with our affairs ? 
 
 Syra. Far indeed from it. I loath their very names. 
 No, I spoke not of gods and goddesses, but of one only God. 
 - Fabiola. And what do you call him in your system ? 
 Syra. He has no name but God ; and men have 
 given him that name, that they may speak of him ; but it 
 describes not his nature, nor his qualities 
 
31 
 
 Fdbiola. And what are these ? 
 
 Syra. Simple as light in his nature, one and the same 
 every where, He existed before there was any begin- 
 ning, and will exist when all else has ceased to be. — 
 Power, wisdom, goodness, love, justice belong to Him. 
 He alone sees every action, thought or affection ; he alone 
 can, and will, reward or punish. 
 
 Fdbiola. But, Syra, can you think that a Being, such 
 as you have described, can occupy himself watching the 
 actions, still more, the paltry thoughts of millions of crea- 
 tures ? 
 
 Syra. This is no occupation for Him ; it is not even 
 choice. I called Him light. Is it occupation to the sun 
 to send his rays through the crystal of a fountain, and to 
 the very pebbles in its bed ? Were the sun to restrain 
 his beams at the surface of the transparent element and 
 hold them back, would it not be a violence unnatural to 
 him ? And what he does in one, he does in the next 
 stream, and in that which is a thousand miles off, with 
 equal ease, nay out of a natural necessity . . Say the same 
 of God, my lady. 
 
 Fobiola. [Overwhelmed ) Your theories are beauti- 
 ful indeed; and sound like truth. But, (putting her 
 hands to her face in awe) what an awful idea, that one 
 has never been, and never is alone — has never had a wish 
 to oneself — has never had a single thought in secret — has 
 never hidden the most foolish fancy of a proud or child- 
 ish brain, from the observation of One who knows no im- 
 perfection ! . . Yet, I repeat, it sounds like truth ! . . Ah ! 
 Syra, I guess I have not reached the depth of your knowl- 
 edge (a tear and blush). .But, no doubt, you have to-day 
 opened a new world to my thoughts — a sphere of virtue 
 beyond the opinions and judgment of men — a conscious- 
 ness of a controlling Power, standing by us when no 
 other eye can see — a feeling that, were we shut up for 
 ever in solitude, we should be ever the same! . .Such, if I 
 understand it well, is the consequence of your doctrine : 
 Is it? 
 
 Syra. O my dear mistress, it is. 
 
 Fdbiola. And was it all this that you meant when 
 
32 
 
 once you told me that, in your theory, there was do dis- 
 tinction between mistress and slave ? That is, that such 
 a distinction is only outward, social, bodily ; but that a 
 perfect equality exists before the Supreme Being ; and 
 that the only distinction consists in the different moral 
 and inward merit that this Being may see in every indi- 
 vidual ? 
 
 Syra. About so, my noble lady. 
 
 Fahiola. And yet, when you spoke so, it seemed to 
 me so absurd, that pride and anger overcame me ! (af- 
 fected.) Do you remember that, Syra ? 
 
 Syra. Oh no, no. Do not allude to it, pray. 
 
 Fdbiola. Have you forgiven me that day, dear ? (Em- 
 bracing her.) 
 
 Syra. Oh! yes, yes. (Sobbing.) 
 \_A knoclc at the door. Enter Groja hastily,' ic.ith a letter. ~] 
 
 Graja. Excuse, Madam. 
 
 Fabiola. A letter ? (Opens it end reads) What? 
 Agnes in prison? and accused by Fulvius ?. . Oh ! I'll 
 soon settle the matter. Ah ! Fulvius, miserable w r retch ! 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. . . . PRISON. 
 
 Agnes (Alone ) My prayer has been heard at last ! 
 Soon I shall behold my Beloved "face to face as he is." 
 Oh bliss ! oh happy day ! . . (Fujvius appears, and boivs 
 to Agnes, who stares at him calm and intrepid) You 
 again ? Respect me here at least, sir. I have but a few 
 hours to live : let them be spent in peace. 
 
 Fulvius. Madam, I have come to lengthen them, if 
 you please, to years. 
 
 Agnes. Surely, if I understand you, the time is past 
 for this sad vanity. Thus to address one whom you 
 have delivered over to death, is, at best, a mockery. 
 
 Fulvhis. It is not so, gentle lady. Your fate is in 
 your own hands; and only your own obstinacy can give 
 you over to death. I have come to renew, once more, my 
 oiler, and with it that of life. It is your last chance. 
 
 Agnes. Have I not bt fore told you that I am a Chris- 
 tian, and that I would forfeit a thousand liv^s rather than 
 betray my faith V 
 
33 
 
 " 4 tulvius. Bat I do not ask you to do this ; consent to 
 fly with me ; and, notwithstanding what has happened, 
 you can be a Christian and yet live. 
 
 Agnes. But have I not also plainly told you that I 
 am already espoused to my Lord and Savior, and that to 
 him alone I keep eternal faith ? Cease, therefore, 
 this unworthy importunity, and leave me the last privi- 
 lege of the- condemned — solitude. 
 
 Fulvius {Angrily) Wretched woman, I give thee 
 ' one more opportunity of rescuing thyself from destruction. 
 Say, then, which wilt thou have, life with me, or death ? 
 
 Fabiola. {Appearing suddenly) Death, even J, 
 would choose with her, rather than life with a monster 
 like thee ! 
 
 Fulvius. She shall have it; {Clenches his fist, and 
 darts a mad look towards Fabiola.) and thou too, if 
 again thou darest to fling thy baneful shadow across my 
 path. {Exit.) 
 
 Fabiola. {To Agnes.) Now, Agnes, what does all 
 this mean ? Is all the charge which this scoundrel has 
 trumped up against you, that you are a Christian ? {She 
 laughs.) I will go myself to Tertullus and confute it in 
 five minutes, 
 
 Agnes. But Fabiola, I am really a Christian ! 
 
 Fabiola. {In great astonishment.) You?.,(7o her- 
 self.) Agnes a Christian! And so Syra, it appears! 
 and with those sublime doctrines I have just learned from 
 her ! . . Oli ! this is more than I can bear ! . .{To Agnes.) 
 But how long, Agnes, have you been a Christian ? 
 
 Agnes. All my life : I sucked the faith, as we say, 
 with my mother's milk, 
 
 Fabiola. And why did you conceal it from me ? 
 
 Agnes. Because I saw your violent prejudices against 
 us; how you abhorred us as practicers of the most ridic- 
 ulous superstitions, as perpetrators of the most odious 
 abominations. I perceived how you contemned us as un- 
 intellectual, uneducated, unphilosophical and unreasona- 
 ble. You would not hear a word about us ; and the only 
 object of hatred to your generous mind was the name of 
 Christian. 
 
34 
 
 Fabiola. True, dearest Agnes; yet I think had, l| 
 known that you were a Christian, I could not have hated 
 it; I could have loved any thing in you. 
 
 Agnes. You think so now, Fabiola : but you know 
 not the force of universal prejudice, the weight of false- 
 hood daily repeated. How many noble minds, fine intel- 
 lects and loving hearts are thus enslaved, and induced to 
 believe us to be all that we are not, something even 
 worse than the worst of all others ! 
 
 Fabiola. Well, Agnes, it is selfish in me to argue 
 thus with you in your present position. You will, of 
 course, compel Fulvius to prove that you are a Christian. 
 
 Agnes. Oh no, dear Fabiola ; I have already con- 
 fessed it, and intend to do so again, I think, after a 
 little while. 
 
 Fabiola. What! so soon? 
 
 Agnes. Yes, Fabiola. To prevent any clamor or dis- 
 turbance, I hear I am to be interrogated early, and that 
 summary proceedings will be taken. Is not that good 
 news, dear ?. .Behold, what I have long wished I already 
 see ; what I hoped for I hold safe; to Him alone I feel 
 already associated in heaven, whom here on earth I have 
 loved with all devotedness. Oh, how beautiful he is, Fa- 
 biola ! Lovlier than the angels that surround him! 
 sweet his smile — mild his look — bland the whole express- 
 ion of his countenance. Oh, I see him and his most gra- 
 cious mother, and the whole heavenly host winningly 
 beckoning me to go to them. .1 come, I come. . Oh could 
 you come too, Fabiola ! Dear cousin, [takes one of Fa- 
 biola's hands in her own, and crosses them upon her 
 bosom, looking into her face,) I have one dying request 
 to make you. 
 
 Fabiola. [Almost crying.) Speak not thus to me, 
 dearest Agnes ; you must not request, but command me 
 now. 
 
 Agnes, Then promise me that you will apply your 
 mind to master the doctrines of Christianity. I know 
 you will embrace them ; if you only do that. Oh, what a 
 glorious being Christianity will make of you, Fabiola ! 
 
 Fabiola. I will, Agnes. Oh that you were not leav- 
 
35 
 
 ing me thus outside its very threshold ! (A noise is 
 heard.) 
 
 Agnes. Hark ! They come, they come ! Don't you 
 hear the measured tramp of the soldiers in the gallery ? 
 They are the Bridesmen coming to summon me. Fare- 
 well, Fabiola ! Weep not for me. that I could make 
 you feel, as I do, the happiness of dying for Christ ! 
 x\nd now I will speak a word to you which I never have 
 addressed to you before — God bless you ! (She makes 
 the sign of the cross on Fabiola' } s forehead. They em- 
 brace each other — The soldiers appear — Fabiola, sob- 
 bing, hastens away.) 
 
 TeriuUus. — What ! is she unfettered ? 
 
 A Soldier. She does not need it : she walks so read- 
 ily — and she is so young. (Wickedly.) 
 
 TeriuUus. But she is as obstinate as the oldest. Put 
 manacles on her hands at once. 
 
 A soldier. (Doing so.) One so young ought *£o wear 
 other bracelets. 
 
 TeriuUus. Silence man, obey, (to Agnes) Agnes, I 
 pity thy youth, thy station, and the bad education thou 
 hast received. I desire, if possible, to save thee. Re- 
 nounce the false and pernicious maxims of Christianity.; 
 obey the Emperor's edicts ; and sacrifice to the gods. 
 
 Agnes. — It is useless to tempt me longer. My resolu 
 tion is unalterable. I despise thy false divinities, and 
 can only love and serve the One living God. Blessed 
 Christ, call to thee the soul that cleaveth unto Thee — 
 victim first to Thee by virginal consecration, now to Thy 
 Father by martyrdom's immolation. 
 
 TeriuUus. I waste time, I see. (Impatiently.) We 
 condemn Agnes for contempt of the Imperial edicts, to 
 be punished with the sword. 
 
 Soldier. Where, sir ? 
 
 Tertidlus. Here, at once. 
 
 Agnes. Thanks be to God ! (She raises her hands 
 and eyes to heaven. She then calmly kneels down, draws 
 forward with her hauls her hair over her head, and ex- 
 poses her neck to the bloiv. The executioner trembles 
 with emotion, and cannot wield his sword. When at 
 
36 
 
 last he has done so, he still hesitates, and passes the back 
 of his left hand across his eyes, and ivipes a tear — ) 
 
 Tertullus. Now, now, soldier, a tear ? Art thou 
 mad ? Strike, or . . . 
 
 [The executioner grasps Agnes? head, bends it to one side, and 
 raises the sword to strike the blow, when the curtain drops.~\ 
 
 act -v, 
 
 CONVERSION. 
 SCENE. FABIOLA'S RECEPTION ROOM. 
 
 Graja. {To Gorvinus.) I have delivered your mes- 
 sage to my mistress, sir. She will come in presently 
 
 (Exit 
 
 Gorvinus. ( When Fabiola enters.) Madam, the Em- 
 peror has conferred on me the honor of coming to you as 
 a messenger from his imperial majesty. 
 
 Fabiola. [Dry.) What does the Emperor want from 
 me? 
 
 Gorvinus, We felt very much for you at seeing how 
 eztremely sorry you appeared to be for your unfortunate 
 cousin's sad fate : and, thinking that it would be some 
 compensation for the loss of her person, if you should 
 get the peaceful possession of her inheritance, which 
 some wicked persons expected to get for themselves after 
 its confiscation, we, my father and your humble servant, 
 (bowing) obtained from the Emperor a rescript, {hands 
 it over to Fabiola, who throws it carelessly on a chair,) 
 by which lady Agnes' property is assigned to you unmo- 
 lested. I hope, Madam, you will consider this good 
 office as a new token of my affection for you, and kindly 
 reward it with your own. 
 
 Fabiola. That was unnecessary, sir. That property 
 was settled on me long ago ; and I could in no way for- 
 feit it. I am no Christian, as you know. Yet, let it be 
 so now; and if you have any claim to my recompense, I 
 will see to it in a more favorable moment. I am just 
 now too wearied and unwell : so, I must beg you to 
 leave me at present. 
 
37 
 
 Corvinus. I shall respect your feelings, iny lady, and 
 withdraw; but with the consoling hope that you will 
 soon receive me again. 
 
 Fahiola. {Turns her back to him and calls Graja.) 
 Graja, show this gentleman off. [When alone.) Hor- 
 rid monster L.. .And he dares to aspire to my hand! 
 (Laughing scornfully.) What a difference (turning 
 serious, and plunging herself in her couch) between 
 such kind of people and Sebastian — the noblest, the 
 purest, the bravest of Rome's nobility/ (Phased.) Was 
 it not extremely delicate on his part never to make the 
 least advance, although he could not but know that he 
 might have had my hand and fortune for the asking ? 
 But lo ! that he has gone too [Thoughtful.'] Alas ! he too 
 was a Christian . . But is it not very strange that every one 
 I have known to be endowed with superior excellence — 
 — Agnes, Sebastian, Syra — turn out to belong to that 
 scorned race : whilst, if I look around upon the rest — 
 Tertullus, Corvinus, Fulvius, the Emperor himself — it 
 sickens me (risiiig up and pacing the floor ivith indig- 
 nation) to see quite a contrast of baseness, of vice, of 
 stupidity. 
 
 Fulvius. ( Who appeared at the door when Fabiola 
 was uttering the last sentence.) Pray Madam, (ironi- 
 cally,) who are the men whom you honor by that gra- 
 cious speech ? 
 
 Fahiola. You are one — you, a further intruder, even 
 into the most secret apartments of a young lady's resi- 
 dence. Begone at once, or I will have you ignomin- 
 iously expelled hence. 
 
 Fulvius. Sit down, and compose yourself, lady. This 
 is my last visit to you ; we have a reckoning to make to- 
 gether of some weight. As to calling out or bringing in 
 help, you need not trouble yourself. I have seen that 
 none be within call. (Fabiola sinks herself down in 
 her couch with despair. Fulvius takes a chair and 
 sits opposite to her and continues :) Now repress your 
 indignation, lady. I will be heard out. You under- 
 mined my character, you poisoned my love. . - 
 
 Fabiola. Your love ? (Mockingly.) 
 
38 
 
 Fulvius. Yes, my love for Agnes .... 
 
 Fabiola. Insolent man ! That very name on your 
 lips sounds like blasphemy. And as for your pretended 
 love, no, it deserves no such name. It was wealth that 
 you grasped at and nothing more. What love can there 
 be in one who is equally ready to espouse or to murder 
 the object of his affection ? Begone (rising up) from 
 my presence ; you taint the very atmosphere in which 
 you move. At any rate I will depart from this offensive 
 intrusion. 
 
 Fulvius. (Hastily grasping her arm and pushing 
 her back to the seat.) We part not yet, lady, and be- 
 ware how you attempt either to escape or to bring aid. 
 Your first cry will be your last, cost me what it may. . 
 You have made me a houseless wanderer : you robbed 
 me of my gold. 
 
 Fabiola. What ! dare you, in my own house, call me 
 a thief ? 
 
 Fulvius. I dare ; and I tell you this is your day of 
 reckoning. I have earned, even if by crime, it is nothing 
 to you, my full share of your cousin's property ; I have 
 a right to enjoy it. Call it what you will ; call it my 
 blood-money ; but you had no business to step in and 
 snatch it from me. 
 
 Fabiola. (Soothingly.) Fulvius, I entreat you to go. 
 If you want money, you shall have it ; but go, in heaven's 
 name, go. My cousin's property naturally became mine 
 the moment it ceased to be hers ; and the Emperor's re- 
 script, granting it to me, was obtained by some uncalled 
 for friend, but it was unnecessary. 
 
 Fulvius. No ; you endeavor in vain to make me be- 
 lieve all that. You have out-plotted me ; and now you 
 offer me money — alms out of my own wages. 
 
 Fabiola. Your anger destroys your reason, Fulvius. 
 [She risis again , but he seizes he?* with a maniac's gripe.] 
 
 Fulvius. No. Give me back that property. Trans- 
 fer it by your sign to me as a free gift, and I will de- 
 part. If not, you have signed your own doom. 
 
 Fabiola. (Haughtily.) Fulvius, listen to my words, 
 though they should be the last that I may speak. If 
 
 
39 
 
 you want money from me, I'll give; but surrender to 
 you my cousin Agnes' (she bows respectfully) property, 
 no, I will not, I shall not. I would rather give it to the 
 first beggar that I meet in the street. Never shall you 
 touch a thing that belonged to that holy maiden, be it a 
 gem or be it a straw. That touch would be a pollution. 
 You have now offered me two alternatives — as last night 
 you did to her — to yield to your demands or die. Agnes 
 told me which to choose. 
 
 [Fulvius pushes Fabiola backwards towards the couch, and draws a 
 stiletto from the folds of his bosom. Fabiola faints.'] 
 
 Fulvius. Then die ! (and lie raises the arm to strike- 
 at the same moment Syr a rushes in, throws herself be- 
 tween her Mistress' life and Fulvius 1 dagger, and re- 
 ceives the stroke. Fulvius, blind vnth madness, dashes 
 the dagger to the ground and rushes out of the room. 
 A pause ensues.) 
 
 Fabiola. (Coming to herself, she releases herself of 
 Syra, ivho lies fainted on the same couch, arises 
 gently, and perceiving the state of Syra, calls her.) 
 Syra ! Syra ! What ? blood ?. . Ah ! now I recollect ev- 
 erything : she was murdered by Fulvius instead of me ! 
 (She runs to the door.) Afra ! Graja ! Come, quick ! 
 
 Afra and Graja. What is the matter ? 
 
 Fabiola. She is murdered ! she is murdered ! (in 
 great desolation,) Graja, run for a physician. Afra, 
 staunch the blood ! (They both do so.) 
 
 Syra. (Returning to her senses.) Fabiola.. my 
 dear mistress . . are you safe ? 
 
 Fabiola. I am, dear ; but thou art d ying ! 
 
 Syra. The will of God be done ! 
 
 Graja. The physician is coming. (Enter Dyonysius.) 
 
 Dyonysius. (To Syra.) My child ! Be of good heart ! 
 (He dresses the ivoand and gives some medicine.) The 
 wound (to Fabiola) is not dangerous. She must now be 
 left perfectly quiet, so as to prevent excitement. If she 
 can fall in a short slumber, it will do her a great deal of 
 good. I will call again by and by. 
 
 Fabiola. Very well, sir. (Exit Dyonysius.) (To 
 Afra and Graja.) You may go, now: I will nurse 
 
40 
 
 - her.. (Syra falls asleep. Silence.) Oh she was no 
 dreamer when she spoke to me about making heroism an 
 ordinary and one's own every day's duty ! Can this be a 
 philosophy ?.. Oh no, it must be a religion! — The reli- 
 gion of Agnes ! 
 
 Syra. Agnes ! (dreaming) Oh ! (aivaking) my dear- 
 est Mistress ! 
 
 Fabiola. Oh do not, I entreat you, call me by such 
 a title. But you seem to me better. 
 
 Syra. Much better. 
 
 Fabiola. Permit me, then, to fulfil without delay the 
 duty which my heart is burning to discharge, that of 
 thanking you, not for the life you have saved me, but 
 for the sacrifice you made for it. 
 
 Syra. After all, I did but my duty. 
 
 Fabiola. No, no; do not try to make me undervalue 
 your virtue. 
 
 Syra, (Talking Fabiola, 1 s hands behoeen both hers.) 
 Good and gentle lady, that you may see how far, what 
 you prize so much in me, is from what might be done 
 still, let me trace to you a parallel scene, but where all 
 shall be reversed, Suppose a slave — a slave brutish, un- 
 grateful, rebellious to the best of masters : and suppose 
 the stroke, not of an assassin, but of the minister of jus- 
 tice, impend over his head. What would you think of 
 that master, if, out of pure love, and that he might re- 
 claim that wretched slave, he should rush beneath the 
 axe's blow, and leave written in his will that he made 
 that slave heir of his title and of his wealth, and desired 
 him to be considered as his brother ? 
 
 Fabiola. Oh ! Syra, this is too sublime a picture to 
 be believed of man — but only, if ever possible, of a God J 
 
 Syra. (With inspiration.) And Christ, who did 
 thus sacrifice hlmsklf for man, was truly god ! 
 God and man ! 
 
 Fabiola. Oh! I see ! Hence I wish you to give me 
 some further knowledge of this your religious system, 
 which is so coherent in all its parts. 
 
 Syra. Well, if you believe me, I will attempt to 
 do so. 
 
41 
 
 Fabiola. One who is ready, like you, to die for an- 
 other will surely not deceive him. 
 
 Syra. And now, you have just seized another great 
 principle of Christianity — that of Faith. 
 
 Fabiola. Well, I believe, Syra ; tell me, then : this 
 Christ, God and man, who offered himself a victim for 
 man, did he take up the cast-off slough of our same hu- 
 manity, or was a new manhood created expressly for him ? 
 Was there any one on earth daring and high enough to 
 call himself his father ? 
 
 Syra. No : but there was one holy enough and hum- 
 ble enough to be chosen to be His Mother ! 
 
 Fabiola, And who is she ? 
 
 Syra. One, whom an angel, a sublime Spirit, sent 
 to her from heaven, saluted with these words : ki Hail, 
 full of grace, the Lord is with thee ;" one whom " all the 
 generations called and shall call blessed ; ,J one, of whom 
 eight hundred years before a prophet spoke, saying : "be- 
 hold a virgin shall conceive," and who accordingly con- 
 ceived, overshadowed by the spirit of God himself. Her 
 name is Mary. Her, and her virtues, especially the at- 
 tachment she showed to have for virginal purity, when 
 she objected to the honor of being the mother of the 
 Savior, her, I say, many, like our holy friend Agnes, 
 justly choose as the pattern of their lives; and in prefer- 
 ence to allowing themselves to be yoked, even by the ten- 
 derest ties, seek to fly upwards to heaven on wings of un- 
 divided love to God. 
 
 Fabiola. If you are not too fatigued, I will ask you 
 one question more. 
 
 Syra. No : ask. 
 
 Fabiola. What hope can there be for one, who, though 
 she pretended to know every thing, yet was ignorant or 
 rather rash enough to scorn the true wisdom, and sneered 
 at the very death of Him who ransomed her. . [a flood of 
 tears stop her speech .] 
 
 Syra. Fabiola, listen to me. " In the days of our 
 Lord there lived a woman who bore the same name as 
 his spotless mother, but who had sinned most degra- 
 dingly — whilst you would abhor to sin. She became ac- 
 
42 
 
 quainted with the Redeemer; and she loved him, and 
 repented of her sins. She went to him, into the house 
 of a man where he was dining, and she knelt at his 
 feet, and she poured out upon them a flood of tears. . 
 
 Fabiola- And how did the Redeemer receive her ? 
 
 Syra. He defended her against the carping gibes of 
 his host, and said of her : "Her many sins are forgiven 
 because she loved a great deal." 
 
 Fabiola. And what became of her ? 
 
 Syra. When the Redeemer was crucified, two wo- 
 men were privileged to stand close to Him — Mary the 
 sinless and Mary the penitent; to show how unsullied, 
 as well as repentant, love, may walk hand in hand be- 
 side Him, who said : "I came not to call the just but 
 sinners to repentance." 
 
 Fabiola. (Falling onher knees and bending, with her 
 face in both her hands, in Syra's lap — sobbing.) Syra, I 
 wish to be like the penitent Mary. (Enter Graja and 
 
 Dyony silts. ) 
 
 Graja. Madam, the physician. 
 
 Syra. (To Dyonysius.) Venerable priest of God, 
 I confide to your fatherly care this Cathecumen, that you 
 may instruct her in the mysteries of our holy Faith, and 
 regenerate her by the waters of salvation. 
 
 Fabiola. What ! are you more than a physician ? 
 
 Dyonysius. I am, my child. Unworthily I hold like- 
 wise the higher office of a priest in God's Church. (Fa- 
 biola throws herself at his feet — hissing his hands; 
 and he jplaces his hands upon her head, saying :) Be of 
 good courage, daughter; you are not the first of your 
 house, whom God has brought into his holy Church. 
 It is now many years since I was called in here, under 
 the gui^e of a physician, and baptized a few hours before 
 her death the wife of Fabius. 
 
 Fabiola. My mother ! And she died a Christian ! ? 
 
 Dyonysius. Yes ; and I doubt not that her spirit has 
 been hovering about you through life, guiding you to this 
 blessed hour. 
 
 Fabiola, (Throwing herself in Syra's arms.) And 
 thou, Syra, thou wert the angel through whom my mother 
 
43 
 
 guided me, as it were, by hand to the present happi- 
 ness. Oh ! allow me, from henceforth, to call thee and 
 to be called by thee sister. 
 
 Syr a. Sister, [embracing her) dear sister ! now we 
 shall never be separated from each other — for all 
 eternity ! 
 
 Dyonysius. — Praised be the infinite mercy of God, 
 who accepted this poor slave's sacrifice for her mistress, 
 and made them both truly and equally free in Christ ! 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 To the Dramatis Personce, add : Torquatus — An 
 
 Apostate from Christianity. 
 At page 10 line 2, over-chastening, read : over-chas- 
 tising. 
 At page 17, line 10, last word, read: Fulvius. 
 " " 22, " 20, Agnes, read: Fulvius. 
 " " 29, " 12, to the Emperor, read: the Emperor. 
 " " 34, " 1, I think had, I, read : I think, had I. 
 " " 34, " 24, lovlier, read : lovelier. 
 
St'jH*/-