t."

And with this encouraging sentence the two parted, and Philammon, on the
following morning, followed the train of philosophers, students, and
fine gentlemen to Hypatia's lecture-room.

Philammon listened to Hypatia in bewilderment, attracted by the beauty
of the speaker, the melody of her voice, and the glitter of her
rhetoric. As she discoursed on truth a sea of new thoughts and questions
came rushing in on his acute Greek intellect at every sentence. A
hostile allusion to the Christian Scriptures aroused him, and he cried
out, "It is false, blasphemous! The Scriptures cannot lie!"

There was a yell at this. "Turn the monk out!" "Throw the rustic through
the window!" cried a dozen young gentlemen. Several of the most valiant
began to scramble over the benches up to him, and Philammon was
congratulating himself on the near approach of a glorious martyrdom,
when Hypatia's voice, calm and silvery, stifled the noise and tumult in
a moment.

"Let the youth listen, gentlemen. He is but a monk and a plebeian, and
knows no better; he has been taught thus. Let him sit here quietly, and
perhaps we may be able to teach him otherwise."

And, without even a change of tone, she continued her lecture.

Philammon sprang up the moment that the spell of her voice was taken off
him, and hurried out through the corridor into the street. But he had
not gone fifty yards before his friend the fruit porter, breathless with
running, told him that Hypatia called for him. "Thereon, her father,
commands thee to be at her house--here--to-morrow at the third hour.
Hear and obey."

Cyril heard Philammon's story and Hypatia's message with a quiet smile,
and then dismissed the youth to an afternoon of labour in the city,
commanding him to come for his order in the evening.

But in the evening, Peter, already jealous of Cyril's interest in
Philammon, and enraged at any toleration being extended to Hypatia,
refused to let the youth enter the archbishop's house, and then struck
him full in the face. The blow was intolerable, and in an instant
Peter's long legs were sprawling on the pavement, while he bellowed like
a bull to all the monks that stood by, "Seize him! The traitor! The
heretic! He holds communion with heathens! And he was in Hypatia's
lecture-room this morning!"

A rush took place at the youth, but Philammon's blood was up. The ring
of monks were baying at him like hounds round a bear, and, against such
odds, the struggle woul