oke came. Then
they came down, half dressed, and drew near the fire.

"What does it mean?" they wondered.

Amongst them were merchants from whom Thais had often bought perfumes
and stuffs, and they looked on anxiously with long, yellow faces, unable
to comprehend what was going on. Some young debauchees, who, returning
from a supper, passed by there, preceded by their slaves, stopped, their
heads crowned with flowers, their tunics floating, and uttered loud
cries. Attracted by curiosity, the crowd increased unceasingly, and soon
it was known that Thais had been persuaded by the Abbot of Antinoe to
burn her riches and retire to a nunnery.

The shopkeepers thought to themselves--

"Thais is going to leave the city; we shall sell no more to her; it is
dreadful to think of. What will become of us without her? This monk has
driven her mad. He is ruining us. Why let him do it? What is the use of
the laws? Are there no magistrates in Alexandria? Thais does not think
about us and our wives and our poor children. It is a public scandal.
She ought to be compelled to stay in the city."

The young men, on their part, also thought--

"If Thais is going to renounce acting and love, our chief amusements
will be taken from us. She was the glory, delight, and honour of the
stage. She was the joy even of those who had never possessed her. The
women we loved, we loved in her. There were no kisses given in which she
was altogether absent, for she was the joy of all voluptuaries, and the
mere thought that she breathed amongst us excited us to pleasure."

Thus thought the young men, and one of them, named Cerons, who had held
her in his arms, cried out upon the abduction, and blasphemed against
Christ. In every group the conduct of Thais was severely criticised.

"It is a shameful flight!"

"A cowardly desertion!"

"She is taking the bread out of our mouths."

"She is robbing our children."

"She ought at least to pay for the wreaths I have sold to her."

"And the sixty robes she has ordered of me."

"She owes money to everybody."

"Who will represent Iphigenia, Electra, and Polyxena when she is gone?
The handsome Polybia herself will not make such a success as she has
done."

"Life will be dull when her door is closed."

"She was the bright star, the soft moon of the Alexandrian sky."

All the most notorious mendicants of the city--cripples, blind men,
and paralytics--had by this time assembled in the place; and crawli