distant; but the horses whose neighing had affrighted Orpheus were
already near; they were standing close to the southern or back-wall of
the temple, in which there was no gate or entrance of any kind. What
object could the Imperial cavalry have in placing themselves by that
strong and impenetrable spot?

But there was no time for much consideration, for at this instant the
gong, which was sounded to call the defenders of the Serapeum together,
rang through the precincts.

Olympius needed no spur or encouragement. He turned to his guests with
the passion and fire of a fanatical leader, of the champion of a great
but imperilled cause, and bid them be men and stand by him to resist
the foe till death. His voice was husky with excitement as he spoke his
brief but vehement call to arms, and the effect was immense, precisely
because the speaker, carried away by the tide of feeling, had not tried
to impress the learned and eloquent men whom he addressed by any tricks
of elocution or choice of words. They, too, were fired by the spark of
the old man's enthusiasm; they gathered round him, and followed him at
once to the rooms where the weapons had been deposited for use.

Breastplates girt on to their bodies, and swords wielded in their hands
made soldiers of the sages at once, and inspired them with martial
ardor. Little was spoken among these heroes of "the mighty word."
They were bent on action. Olympius Had desired Apuleius to go into his
private room adjoining the hypostyle with Porphyrius, on whose senseless
and rigid state no treatment had as yet had any effect. Some of the
temple-servants carried the merchant down a back staircase, while
Olympius hastily and silently led his comrades in arms up the main steps
into the great halls of the temple.

Here the chivalrous host were doomed to surprise and disappointment
greater than the most hopeless of them was prepared to meet. Olympius
himself for a moment despaired; for his ecstatic adherents had during
the night turned to poltroons and tipplers, and the sacred precincts
of the sanctuary looked as if a battle had been fought and lost there.
Broken and bruised furniture, smashed instruments, garments torn and
wet, draggled wreaths, and faded flowers were strewn in every direction.
The red wine lay in pools like blood on the scarred beauties of the
inlaid pavement; here and there, at the foot of a column, lay an
inert body--whether dead or merely senseless who could guess?