I Appeal To Caesar!

chained prisoner. Silent prayers issue from Christian hearts; in contrast, some senators find the whole procedure revolting. * * * * * Meanwhile, in his special waiting chamber, the great Nero peers through a peephole like a naughty boy. “So-o-o,” he says to softly himself, “this is the famous renegade ring-leader of these Christians? He doesn’t look too impressive to me!” The prisoner wears tattered sandals, is dressed in a dirty, raggedy garment, hair and beard are uncombed, filthy in body with matted blood and dirt, bent over from weakness and pain, and showing a body with physical scars on every part. Nero smiles. “Absolutely the worst case I have ever seen. What a push-over situation,” he sighs. “We’ll have no problem!” take long. Get rid of him, and we get rid of all the vermin!” * * * * * As if on cue, Nero makes his theatrical entrance: the swinging of the shimmering toga over his shoulder, the placement of his feet showcasing his bejeweled sandals, the careful arrangement of the golden wreath upon his head, and the deft handling of his royal scepter. Dressed in his finest fare, body cleansed and perfumed, his recently quaffed hair cascading in stylish, reddish-blond curls around his chubby face, the ruler of the greatest nation of the world settles into his throne. The mad emperor is also serious, “ Pathetic. This will not