rotection,
and Marcus, without pausing to reflect--indeed hardly master of his own
actions--turned and lifted her into it by his side; then, urging his
horses forward, he forced a way through the crowd, past the caiceres. He
glanced anxiously up at the seats but could nowhere see his mother, so
he guided the exhausted beasts, steaming with sweat and dappled with
foam, through the open gate and out of the circus. His stable-slaves had
run after him; he released himself from the reins on his hips and flung
them to the grooms. Then he helped Dada to leap from the car.

"Will you come with me?" he asked her simply; and the girl's reply was:
"Wherever you bid me."

At the news that Serapis was overthrown Dame Mary had started from
her seat with eager haste that ill-became her dignity and, under the
protection of the body-guard in attendance on Cynegius, had found her
way to her litter.

In the Hippodrome the tumult rose to a riot; Reds and Blues rushed
from the upper tiers, down the ranks of the podium and into the dusty
race-course; falling on each other tooth and nail like wild beasts;
and the bloody fray--no uncommon termination to the day, even in more
peaceful times--lasted till the Imperial soldiery parted the unarmed
combatants.

The Bishop was triumphant; his adherents had won the day at every point;
nor was he sorry to learn that Olympius, Helladius, Ainmonius and many
other spiritual leaders of the heathen world had succeeded in escaping.
They might come back; they might preach and harangue as much as they
chose: their power was broken. The Church had nothing now to fear
from them, and their philosophy and learning would still and always be
valuable in the mental training of her priests.

CHAPTER XXVI.

The great Hippodrome of Alexandria was outside the Canopic gate, on the
northern side of the road leading to Eleusis which to-day was crowded
with passengers, all moving in the same direction. The tumult roused by
the intelligence that Serapis was overthrown made all the more peaceful
and peace-loving of the spectators hurry homewards; and as these, for
the most part, were of the richer classes, who came and went in litters
or chariots, their conveyances left but scanty space on the wide
causeway for foot passengers, still, there they were, in considerable
numbers, all wending their way towards the city, and the heathen who
came rushing towards the Hippodrome behind the first heralds of the
disaster, h