ld
visit the house of Herophilus, for there he might admire strength
and vigor of body in Menander, and the same qualities of mind in
Apollonius.' These lines, which were written in the form of a lute,
passed from mouth to mouth, and gratified my father's ambition; from
that time he had words of praise for me when my quadriga won the race in
the Hippodrome, or when I came home crowned from the wrestling-ring,
or the singing match. My whole life was spent in the baths and the
palaestra, or in gay feasting."

"I know it all," exclaimed Stephanus interrupting him, "and the memory
of it all often disturbs me. Did you find it easy to banish these images
from your mind?"

"At first I had a hard fight," sighed Paulus. "But for some time now,
since I have passed my fortieth year, the temptations of the world
torment me less often. Only I must keep out of the way of the carriers
who bring fish from the fishing towns on the sea, and from Raithu to the
oasis."

Stephanus looked enquiringly at the speaker, and Paulus went on: "Yes,
it is very strange. I may see men or women--the sea yonder or the
mountain here, without ever thinking of Alexandria, but only of sacred
things; but when the savor of fish rises up to my nostrils I see the
market and fish stalls and the oysters--"

"Those of Kanopus are famous," interrupted Steplianus, "they make little
pasties there--" Paulus passed the back of his hand over his bearded
lips, exclaiming, "At the shop of the fat cook--Philemon--in the street
of Herakleotis." But he broke off, and cried with an impulse of shame,
"It were better that I should cease telling of my past life. The day
does not dawn yet, and you must try to sleep."

"I cannot sleep," sighed Stephanus; "if you love me go on with your
story."

"But do not interrupt me again then," said Paulus, and he went on:
"With all this gay life I was not happy--by no means. When I was alone
sometimes, and no longer sitting in the crowd of merry boon-companions
and complaisant wenches, emptying the wine cup and crowned with poplar,
I often felt as if I were walking on the brink of a dark abyss as if
every thing in myself and around me were utterly hollow and empty. I
could stand gazing for hours at the sea, and as the waves rose only to
sink again and vanish, I often reflected that I was like them, and that
the future of my frivolous present must be a mere empty nothing. Our
gods were of little account with us. My mother sacrificed no