ith grace and modesty.

Whilst the warriors enshrouded the victim with a veil, and covered her
with lilies and anemones, terrified screams and groans rent the air, and
Paphnutius, rising from his seat, prophesied in a loud voice.

"Gentiles? vile worshippers of demons! And you Arians more infamous than
the idolaters!--learn! That which you have just seen is an image and a
symbol. There is a mystic meaning in this fable, and very soon the woman
you see there will be offered, a willing and happy sacrifice, to the
risen God."

But already the crowd was surging in dark waves towards the exits. The
Abbot of Antinoe, escaping from the astonished Dorion, gained the door,
still prophesying.

An hour later he knocked at the door of the house of Thais.

The actress then lived in the rich Racotis quarter, near the tomb of
Alexander, in a house surrounded by shady gardens, in which a brook,
bordered with poplars, flowed amidst artificial rocks. An old black
slave woman, loaded with rings, opened the door, and asked what he
wanted.

"I wish to see Thais," he replied. "God is my witness that I came here
for no other purpose."

As he wore a rich tunic, and spoke in an imperious manner, the slave
allowed him to enter.

"You will find Thais," she said, "in the Grotto of Nymphs."

PART THE SECOND -- THE PAPYRUS

Thais was born of free, but poor, parents, who were idolaters. When she
was a very little girl, her father kept, at Alexandria, near the Gate
of the Moon, an inn, which was frequented by sailors. She still
retained some vivid, but disconnected, memories of her early youth. She
remembered her father, seated at the corner of the hearth with his legs
crossed--tall, formidable, and quiet, like one of those old Pharaohs who
are celebrated in the ballads sung by blind men at the street corners.
She remembered also her thin, wretched mother, wandering like a hungry
cat about the house, which she filled with the tones of her sharp
voice, and the glitter of her phosphorescent eyes. They said in the
neighbourhood that she was a witch, and changed into an owl at night,
and flew to see her lovers. It was a lie. Thais knew well, having often
watched her, that her mother practised no magic arts, but that she was
eaten up with avarice, and counted all night the gains of the day. The
idle father and the greedy mother let the child live as best it could,
like one of the fowls in the poultry-yard. She became very clever in
extra