Approaching him, I asked the cause of his tears.

When we had sat down on the steps of the fountain, he answered that all his life he had been collecting sestertium after sestertium, to redeem his beloved son; but his master, a certain Pansa, when the money was delivered to him, took it, but kept the son in slavery.

'And so I am weeping,' said the old man, 'for though I repeat, Let the will of God be done, I, poor sinner, am not able to keep down my tears.' Then, as if penetrated by a forewarning, I moistened my finger in the water and drew a fish for him.

To this he answered, 'My hope, too, is in Christ.' I asked him then, 'Hast thou confessed to me by that sign ?' 'I have,' said he; 'and peace be with thee.' I began then to draw him out, and the honest old man told me everything.

His master, that Pansa, is himself a freedman of the great Pansa; and he brings stones by the Tiber to Rome, where slaves and hired persons unload them from the boats, and carry them to buildings in the night time, so as not to obstruct movement in the streets during daylight.