ren, which had formerly graced the fountain in the middle of the
avenue, and had also overthrown or mutilated the statues of Hermes that
had stood by the roadside. Orpheus sympathized in his wrath which reached
its climax when, on looking for two statues, of Demeter and of Pallas
Athene, of which Karnis had spoken to his son as decorating the gateway
of one of the finest houses in the city, they beheld instead, mounted on
the plinths, two coarsely-wrought images of the Lamb with its Cross.

"Like two rats that have been caught under a stone!" cried the old man.
"And what is most shameful is that I would wager that they have destroyed
the statues which were the pride of the town and thrown them on a rubbish
heap. In my day this house belonged to a rich man named Philippus. But
stop--was not he the father of our hospitable protector . . ."

"The steward spoke of Porphyrius as the son of Philippus," Orpheus said.

"And Philippus was a corn merchant, too," added Karnis. "Demeter was
figurative of a blessing on the harvest, for it was from that the house
derived its wealth, and Pallas Athene was patroness of the learning that
was encouraged by its owners. When I was a student here every wealthy man
belonged to some school of philosophy. The money-bag did not count for
everything. Heathen or Jew, whether engaged in business or enjoying the
revenues of an inherited fortune, a man was expected to be able to talk
of something besides the price of merchandise and the coming and sailing
of vessels."

During this conversation Dada had withdrawn her hand from the old man's
arm to raise her veil, for two men had gone up to the gate between the
images that had roused Karnis to wrath, and one of them, who at this
instant knocked at the door, was Mary's son.

"Father, see, there he is!" cried Dada, as the door was opened, speaking
louder than was at all necessary to enable her companion to hear her; the
musician at once recognized Marcus, and turning to his son he said:

"Now we may be quite sure! Porphyrius and this young Christian's father
were brothers. Philippus must have left his house to his eldest son who
is the one that is dead, and it now belongs no doubt to Mary, his widow.
I must admit, child, that you choose your adorers from respectable
families!"

"I should think so," said the girl laughing. "And that is why he is so
proud. My fine gentleman has not even a glance to cast at us. Bang! the
door is shut. Come along, unc