led thousands gazed on the god dimly revealed to them in
the twilight, when suddenly, for a moment of solemn glory, a ray of the
setting sun--a shaft of intense brightness--pierced the star-spangled
apse of the niche and fell on the lips of the god as though to kiss its
Lord and Father.

A shout like a thunder-clap-like the roar of breakers on a reef, burst
from the spectators; a shout of triumph so mighty that the statues
quivered, the brazen altars rang, the hangings swayed, the sacred
vessels clattered and the lamps trembled and swung; the echo rolled
round the aisles like a whirlpool at the flood, and was dashed from
pillar to column in a hundred wavelets of sound. The glorious sun still
recognized its lord; Serapis still reigned in undiminished might; he had
not yet lost the power to defend himself, his world and his children!

The sun was gone, night fell on the temple and suddenly there was a
swaying movement of the apse above the statue; the stars were shaken by
invisible hands, and colored flames twinkled with dazzling brightness
from a myriad five-rayed perforations. Once more the god was revealed to
his worshippers under a flood of magical glory, and now fully visible in
his unique beauty. Again the great halls rang with the acclamations of
the delirious throng; Olympius stepped forth, arrayed in a flowing robe
with the insignia and decorations of the high-priesthood; standing in
front of the image he poured on the pedestal a libation to the gods out
of a golden cup, and waved a censer of the costliest incense. Then, in
burning words, he exhorted all the followers of Serapis to fight and
conquer for their god, or--if need must--to perish for and with him. He
added a fervent prayer in a loud ringing voice--a cry for help that came
from the bottom of his heart, and went to the souls of his hearers.

Then a solemn hymn was chanted as the curtain was raised; and while
the assembled multitude watched it rise in reverent silence, the
temple-servants lighted the lamps that illuminated the sanctuary from
every cornice and pillar.

Karnis had left hold of his companions' hands, for he wanted to wipe
away the tears of devotional excitement that flowed down his withered
cheeks; Orpheus had thrown his arms round his mother, and Porphyrius,
who had joined a group of philosophers and sages, sent a glance of
sympathy to the old musician.

CHAPTER XIX.

By an hour after sunset the sacrifice of a bull in the great