ere my guests, in a way."

"Are you, then, one of the keepers of the grove? And have you given up
your work with the trees to take a holiday as a philosopher?

"Not at all. The robe of philosophy is a mere affectation, I must
confess. I think little of it. My profession is the care of altars. In
fact, I am the solitary priest of Apollo whom the Emperor Julian found
here when he came to revive the worship of the grove, some twenty years
ago. You have heard of the incident?"

"Yes," said Hermas, beginning to be interested; "the whole city must
have heard of it, for it is still talked of. But surely it was a strange
sacrifice that you brought to celebrate the restoration of Apollo's
temple?"

"You mean the ancient goose?" said the old man laughing. "Well, perhaps
it was not precisely what the emperor expected. But it was all that I
had, and it seemed to me not inappropriate. You will agree to that if
you are a Christian, as I guess from your dress."

"You speak lightly for a priest of Apollo."

"Oh, as for that, I am no bigot. The priesthood is a professional
matter, and the name of Apollo is as good as any other. How many altars
do you think there have been in this grove?"

"I do not know."

"Just four-and-twenty, including that of the martyr Babylas, whose
ruined chapel you see just beyond us. I have had something to do with
most of them in my time. They are transitory. They give employment to
care-takers for a while. But the thing that lasts, and the thing that
interests me, is the human life that plays around them. The game has
been going on for centuries. It still disports itself very pleasantly
on summer evenings through these shady walks. Believe me, for I know.
Daphne and Apollo are shadows. But the flying maidens and the pursuing
lovers, the music and the dances, these are realities. Life is a game,
and the world keeps it up merrily. But you? You are of a sad countenance
for one so young and so fair. Are you a loser in the game?" The words
a key fits the lock. He opened his heart to the old man, and told him
the story of his life: his luxurious boyhood in his father's house;
the irresistible spell which compelled him to forsake it when he
heard John's preaching of the new religion; his lonely year with the
anchorites among the mountains; the strict discipline in his teacher's
house at Antioch; his weariness of duty, his distaste for poverty, his
discontent with worship.

"And to-day," said he, "I have