made to his medical skill
and he heard a cry for help, he had thrown off the wrapper from his head
and hastened to the merchant's side to combat the effects of the poison,
as clear-headed and decisive as in his best hours by the bed of sickness
or in the lecture-room.

When the very backbone of the soul seems to be broken, a sense of duty
is the one and last thing that holds it together and keeps it upright;
and nature has implanted in us such a strong and instinctive regard for
life--which we are so apt to contemn--that even within a few paces of
the grave we cherish and foster it as carefully as in its prime, when
the end seems still remote.

The merchant's desperate deed had been done under the very eyes of
Orpheus, and the newer horror so completely overshadowed the older, that
he hastened unbidden to help the physician lay the unconscious man on
the nearest couch; but then he went off again in search of his parents.
Olympius, however, who at the sight of his friend's weakness had
suddenly comprehended how much depended, in these last hours, on his own
resolute demeanor, detained the youth, and sternly desired him to give
an exact and clear account of what had happened on the roof. The young
musician obeyed; and his report was certainly far from reassuring.

A ball of fire had fallen with a terrific noise on the cupola, mingling
with flames that seemed to rise like streams of fire from the earth.
Then, again the heavens had opened with a blinding flash and Orpheus had
seen--with his own eyes seen--a gigantic monster--an uprooted mountain
perhaps--which had slowly moved towards the back-wall of the Serapeum
with an appalling clatter; and not rain, but rivers, rushing torrents of
water, had poured down on the men on guard.

"It is Poseidon," cried the lad, "bringing up the ocean against the
temple, and I heard the neighing of his horses. It was not an illusion,
I heard it with my own ears...."

"The horses of Poseidon!" interrupted Olympius. "The horses of the
Imperial cavalry were what you heard!"

He ran to the window with the activity of a younger man and, lifting the
curtain, looked out to the eastward. The storm had vanished as rapidly
as it had come up and it was day. Over the rosy skirts of Eos hung a
full and heavy robe of swelling grey and black clouds, edged with
a fringe of sheeny gold. To the north a sullen flash now and then
zigzagged across the dark sky, and the roll of the thunder was faint
and