shop and officials
were standing; but, suddenly, the tumult ceased, and, as if by a
miracle, there was silence--perfect silence--in the temple. It was as
though at a sign from the Omnipotent Ruler the storm-lashed ocean had
turned to the calm of a land-locked lake. At a nod from the Bishop some
acolytes had stepped up to the niche where the statue of the god was
shrouded and the curtain, which till now had hidden it, slowly began to
fall.

There sat Serapis, looking down in majestic indifference, as cold and
unapproachable as if his sublime dignity was far removed above the
petty doings of the crawling humanity at his feet; and the effect was
as impressive now as it had been the evening before. How beautiful--how
marvellously grand and lofty was this work of human hands! Even the
Christians could not repress a low, long-drawn murmur of surprise,
admiration, and astonishment. The heathen were at first silent,
overcome by pious awe and ecstasy; but then they broke out in a loud and
triumphant shout, and their cries of "Hail to Serapis!" "Serapis, reign
forever!" rang from pillar to pillar and echoed from the stony vault of
the apse and ceiling.

Gorgo crossed her hands over her bosom as she saw the god revealed in
his glorious beauty. Spotlessly pure, complete and perfect, the noble
statue stood before her; an idol indeed, and perishable--but still
divine as a matchless work, wrought by the loving hands of a votary of
the god, inspired by the immortals. She gazed spell-bound on the form
which, though human, transcended humanity as eternity transcends time,
as the light of the sun transcended the blazing beacon on Pharos; and
she said to herself that it was impossible that an irreverent hand
should be laid on this supremely lovely statue, crowned with the might
of undying beauty.

She saw that even the Bishop drew back a step when the curtain had
fallen, and his lips parted involuntarily to utter a cry of admiration
like the others; but she saw, too, that he closed them again and pressed
them more firmly together; that his eye sparkled with a fiercer light as
the shout of the heathen rose to heaven, that the knotted veins on his
high forehead swelled with rage as he heard the cry of "Serapis, Hail,
all hail!" Then she noted the Comes, as he whispered soothing words in
the prelate's ear, praying him perhaps to spare the statue--not as an
idol, but as a work of art; as he turned from Theophilus with a shrug;
and then--he