room and the merchant paced up and down lost in gloomy
thoughts. Presently, as he caught his mother's eye fixed uneasily upon
him, he murmured, less to her than to himself: "If he can think thus of
what the end will be, who can still dare to hope?" Damia drew herself up
in her chair.

"I," she exclaimed passionately, "I--I dare, and I do hope and trust in
the future. Is everything to perish which our forefathers planned and
founded? Is this dismal superstition to overwhelm and bury the world
and all that is bright and beautiful, as the lava stream rolled over the
cities of Vesuvius? No, a thousand times no! Our retrograde and cowardly
generation, which has lost all heart to enjoy life in sheer dread of
future annihilation, may perhaps be doomed by the gods, as was that of
Deucalion's day. Well--if so, what must be must! But such a world as
they dream of never can, never will last. Let them succeed in their
monstrous scheme! if the Temple of temples, the House of Serapis, were
to be in ashes and the image of the mighty god to be dashed to pieces,
what then.... I say what then? Then indeed everything will be at an
end--we, everybody; but they too, they, too, will perish."

She clenched her fist with hatred and revenge and went on: "I know what
I know--there are legible and infallible signs, and it is given to me
to interpret them, and I tell you: It is true, unerringly true, as every
Alexandrian child has learnt from its nurse: When Serapis falls the
earth will collapse like a dry puff-ball under a horse's hoof. A hundred
oracles have announced it, it is written in the prophecies of the
heavenly bodies, and in the scroll of Fate. Let them be! Let it come!
The end is sweet to those who, in the hour of death, can see the enemy
thrust the sword into his own breast."

The old woman sank back panting and gasping for breath, but Gorgo
hastened to support her in her arms and she soon recovered. Hardly had
she opened her eyes again than, seeing her son still in the room, she
went on angrily:

"You--here still? Do you think there is any time to spare? They will be
waiting, waiting for you! You have the key and they need weapons."

"I know what I am about," replied Porphyrius calmly. "All in good time.
I shall be on the spot long before the youngsters have assembled. Cyrus
will bring me the pass-words and signs; I shall send off the messengers,
and then I shall still be in time for action."

"Messengers! To whom?"

"To Bark