adherents. Seldom, indeed, had his heart beat so high!
His end perhaps was very near, but it should at least be worthy of his
life.

He knew how the sunbeam had been reflected so as to kiss the statue's
lips. For centuries had this startling little scene and the sudden
illumination of the niche round the head of the god been worked in
precisely the same way at high festivals--[They are mentioned by
Rufinus.]--these were mere stimulants to the dull souls of the vulgar
who needed to be stirred up by the miraculous power of the god,
which the elect recognized throughout the universe, in the wondrous
co-operation of forces and results in nature, and in the lives of men.
He, for his part, firmly believed in Serapis and his might, and in the
prophecies and calculations which declared that his fall must involve
the dissolution of the organic world and its relapse into chaos.

Many winds were battling in the air, each one driving the ship of life
towards the whirlpool. To-day or to-morrow--what matter which? The
threatened cataclysm had no terrors for Olympius. One thing only was a
pang to his vanity: No succeeding generations would preserve the memory
of his heroic struggle and death for the cause of the gods. But all was
not yet lost, and his sunny nature read in the glow of the dying clay
the promise and dawn of a brilliant morrow. If the expected succor
should arrive--if the good cause should triumph here in Alexandria--if
the rising were to be general throughout Greek heathendom, then indeed
had he been rightly named Olympius by his parents--then he would not
change places with any god of Olympus--then the glory of his name, more
lasting than bronze or marble, would shine forth like the sun, so long
as one Greek heart honored the ancient gods and loved its native land.

This night--perhaps its last--should see a grand, a sumptuous feast;
he invited his friends and adherents--the leaders of spiritual life in
Alexandria--to a 'symposium', after the manner of the philosophers and
dilettanti of ancient Athens, to be held in the great concert-hall of
the Serapeum.

How different was its aspect from that of the Bishop's council-chamber!
The Christians sat within bare walls, on wooden benches, round a plain
table; the large room in which Olympius received his supporters was
magnificently decorated, and furnished with treasures of art in fine
inlaid work, beaten brass and purple stuffs-a hall for kings to meet in.
Thick cushio