ome esteem, for he
readily replied to the little man's questions and remarks.

At this moment the Syrian waved his hand in the air with a gesture
common to men of his race when displaying their own superior knowledge,
as he said "What did I spend ten years in Rome for, if I do not know
Serenus Samonicus? He is the greatest book-collector in the empire. And
he regards himself as a second AEsculapius, and has written a book on
medicine in verse, which Geta, Caesar's murdered brother, always had
about him, for he regarded the physicians here as mere bunglers. He is
as rich as the Alabarch, and riding in his coach is Galenus, for whom
Caesar sent. What can that girl want of him?"

"H'm!" muttered the other, stroking his beard with thoughtful dignity.
"She is a modest maiden; it can only be something urgent and important
which has prompted her to address the Roman."

"Your Castor will be able to find out," replied the Syrian Annianus.
"That omniscient rascal can get through a key-hole, and by to-morrow
will be the best friend of the Roman's people, if you care to know."

"We will see," said Serapion. "Her brother, perhaps, to-morrow evening,
will tell me what is going on."

"The philosopher?" said the other, with a contemptuous flourish. "You
are a great sage, Serapion, as the people hold; but you often sew with
needles too fine for me. Why, just now, when Caesar is here, and
gain and honor be in the streets for such a one as you only to stoop
for--why, I say, you should waste precious time on that poring fellow
from the Museum, I can not understand."

A superior smile parted the Magian's lips; he stepped back into the
room, followed by Annianus, and replied:

"You know how many who call themselves Magians will crowd round Caesar,
and the fame of Sosibius, Hananja, and Kaimis, is not much behind mine.
Each plies his art by his own formulas, though he may call himself a
Pythagorean or what not. None dare claim to belong to any recognized
school, since the philosophers of the guild pride themselves on
condemning the miracle-mongers. Now, in his youth, Caracalla went
through his courses of philosophy. He detests Aristotle, and has always
attached himself to Plato and the Pythagoreans. You yourself told me
that by his desire Philostratus is writing a life of Apollonius of
Tyana; and, though he may turn up his nose at the hair-splitting and
frittering of the sages of the Museum, it is in his blood to look
for marvels from