He remembered a story his mother had once told him of a Roman executioner who, on receiving orders to behead a young Christian, had been so overcome with pity that he had fainted.

The youth had revived him, and comforted him as bravely as if it had been his duty to die, as it was the executioner's to kill.

But then Conrad told himself: you are a guilty creature, and cannot compare yourself with a saint.

Would you be brave enough to act like that?
Would you?
It is sweet to die with Jesus, but it is still sweeter to live with Him.
The jailer asked him if he would care to go out once more into the open air.
Out into the air?
Out into the prison yard, where all the refuse was thrown?
No.

He thanked him; he would prefer to remain in his cell.
It could not be for long now.
"No; it will not be for long now," said the old man.