palaces.
They seemed to be striving to melt the bright mosaic pictures which
covered every foot Of the ground, where no highway intersected and no
tree shaded it, and flashed back again from the glimmering metal or the
smooth glaze in the gay tiles on the roofs of the temples and houses.
Here they glittered on the metal ornaments, yonder they seemed to be
trying to rival the brilliancy of the gilded domes, to lend to the
superb green of the tarnished bronze surfaces the sparkling lustre of
the emerald, or to transform the blue and red lines of the white marble
temples into lapis-lazuli and coral and their gilded decorations into
topaz. The pictures in the mosaic pavement of the squares, and on the
inner walls of the colonnades, were doubly effective against the light
masses of marble surrounding them, which in their turn were indebted
to the pictures for affording the eye an attractive variety instead of
dazzling monotony.

Here the light of the weltering sun enhanced the brilliancy of colour in
the flags and streamers which fluttered beside the obelisks and Egyptian
pylons, over the triumphal arches and the gates of the temples and
palaces. Yet even the exquisite purplish blue of the banner waving above
the palace on the peninsula of Lochias, now occupied by Cleopatra's
children, was surpassed by the hue of the sea, whose deep azure near the
shore merged far away into bands of lighter and darker blue, blending
with dull or whitish green.

Gorgias was accustomed to grasp fully whatever he permitted to influence
him, and though still loyal to his custom of associating with his art
every remarkable work of the gods or man, he had not forgotten in his
enjoyment of the familiar scene the purpose of his presence in this
spot.

No, the garden of Didymus was not the proper place for his friend's last
work.

While gazing at the lofty plane, sycamore, and mimosa trees which
surrounded the old scholar's home, the quiet square below him suddenly
became astir with noisy life, for all classes of the populace were
gathering in front of the sequestered house, as if some unusual
spectacle attracted them.

What could they want of the secluded philosopher?

Gorgias gazed earnestly at them, but soon turned away again; a gay voice
from below called his name.

A singular procession had approached the temple--a small body of armed
men, led by a short, stout fellow, whose big head, covered with bushy
curls, was crowned with a laure