At last he answered-- 'The cause wants martyrs.

Send the boy to me.' Peter went down with a shrug, and an expression of face which looked but too like envy, and ushered up the trembling youth, who dropped on his knees as soon as he entered.
'So you wish to go into the heathen woman's lecture-room, and defy her?
Have you courage for it ?' 'God will give it me.' 'You will be murdered by her pupils.' 'I can defend myself,' said Philammon, with a pardonable glance downward at his sinewy limbs.

'And if not: what death more glorious than martyrdom ?' Cyril smiled genially enough.

'Promise me two things.' 'Two thousand, if you will.' 'Two are quite difficult enough to keep.

Youth is rash in promises, and rasher in forgetting them.