atesmen who knew Alexandria and her
citizens well, and who had often smarted under the spiritual haughtiness
of her Bishop--were on the prelate's side. Cynegius was doubtful; but
the priests, who had not altogether escaped the alarms that had stricken
the whole population, were so bold as to declare against a too hasty
decision, and to say that the celebration of the games at a time of such
desperate peril was not only presumptuous but sinful, and a tempting of
God.

In answer to a scornful enquiry from Theophilus as to where the danger
lay if--as the Comes promised--Serapis were to be overthrown on the
morrow, one of the assembly answered in the name of his colleagues. This
man, now very old, had formerly been a wonderfully successful exorcist,
and, notwithstanding that he was a faithful Christian, he was the leader
of a gnostic sect and a diligent student of magic. He proceeded to
argue, with all the zeal and vehemence of conviction, that Serapis was
the most terrible of all the heathen daemons, and that all the oracles
of antiquity, all the prophecies of the seers, and all the conclusions
of the Magians and astrologers would be proved false if his fall--which
the present assembly could only regard as a great boon from Heaven--did
not entail some tremendous convulsion of nature.

At this Theophilus gave the reins to his wrath; he snatched a little
crucifix from the wall above his episcopal throne, and broke it in
fragments, exclaiming in deep tones that quavered with wrath:

"And which do you regard as the greater: The only-begotten Son of God,
or that helpless image?" And he flung the pieces of the broken crucifix
down on the table round which they were sitting. Then, as though
horror-stricken at his own daring act, he fell on his knees, raised his
eyes and hands in prayer, and gathering up the broken image, kissed it
devoutly.

This rapid scene had a tremendous effect. Amazement and suspense were
painted on every face, not a hand, not a lip moved as Theophilus rose
again and cast a glance of proud and stern defiance round the assembly,
which each man took to himself. For some moments he remained silent,
as though awaiting a reply; but his repellent mien and majestic bearing
made it sufficiently clear that he was ready to annihilate any opponent.
In fact none of the priests contradicted him; and, though Evagrius
looked at him with a doubting shake of his shrewd head, Cynegius on
the other hand nodded assent. The