ients, but he will come to our house in any weather. He
has litters, chariots, and splendid mules. The Queen gives him whatever
is best and most comfortable. He is skilful, and perhaps can render
speedy help. People must use what they have."

"Only where it is necessary," replied the architect. "There are my two
mules; follow me on the second. If I don't drive out the demons, you
will have plenty of time to trot after Olympus."

This proposal pleased the old slave, and a short time after Gorgias
entered the venerable philosopher's tablinum.

Helena welcomed him like an intimate friend. Whenever he appeared she
thought the peril was half over. Didymus, too, greeted him warmly, and
conducted him to the little room where the youth possessed by demons lay
on a divan.

He was still groaning and whimpering. Tears were streaming down his
cheeks, and, whenever any member of the household approached, he pushed
him away.

When Gorgias held his hands and sternly ordered him to confess what
wrong he had done, he sobbed out that he was the most ungrateful wretch
on earth. His baseness would ruin his kind parents, himself, and all his
friends.

Then he accused himself of having caused the destruction of Didymus's
granddaughter. He would not have gone to Antyllus again had not his
recent generosity bound him to him, but now he must atone-ay, atone.
Then, as if completely crushed, he continued to mumble the word,
"atone!" and for a time nothing more could be won from him.

Didymus, however, had the key to the last sentence. A few weeks before,
Philotas and several other pupils of the rhetorician whose lectures in
the museum he attended had been invited to breakfast with Antyllus. When
the young student loudly admired the beautiful gold and silver beakers
in which the wine was served, the reckless host cried: "They are yours;
take them with you." When the guests departed the cup-bearer asked
Philotas, who had been far from taking the gift seriously, to receive
his property. Antyllus had intended to bestow the goblets; but he
advised the youth to let him pay their value in money, for among them
were several ancient pieces of most artistic workmanship, which Antony,
the extravagant young fellow's father, might perhaps be unwilling to
lose.

Thereupon several rolls of gold solidi were paid to the astonished
student--and they had been of little real benefit, since they had made
it possible for him to keep pace with his wealthy and