claimed the horrified Plotinus. "Thou art worse
than the Stoic!"

"Plotinus," said the Epicurean, "consider well ere, as is the manner of
Platonists, thou committest thyself to a proposition of a transparently
foolish nature. Thou desirest to gather all sorts of philosophers around
thee, but to what end, if they are restrained from manifesting their
characteristic tenets? Thou mightest as well seek to illustrate the habits
of animals by establishing a menagerie in which panthers should eat grass,
and antelopes be dieted on rabbits. An Epicurean without his female
companion, unless by his own choice, is no more an Epicurean than a Cynic
is a Cynic without his rags and his impudence. Wilt thou take from me my
Pannychis, an object pleasing to the eye, and leave yonder fellow his
tatters and his vermin?"

The apartment had gradually filled with philosophers, and Hermon was
pointing to a follower of Diogenes whose robe so fully bespoke his
obedience to his master's precepts that his skin seemed almost clean in
comparison.

"Consider also," continued the Epicurean, "that thou art thyself by no
means exempt from scandal."

"What does the man mean?" demanded Plotinus, turning to Porphyry.

"Get them away," whispered the disciple, "and I will tell thee."

Plotinus hastily conceded the point raised with reference to the
interesting Pannychis, and the philosophers went off to effect their
exchange of quarters. As soon as the room was clear, he repeated:

"What _does_ the man mean?"

"I suppose he is thinking of Leaena," said Porphyry.

"The most notorious character in Rome, who, finding her charms on the wane,
has lately betaken herself to philosophy?"

"The same."

"What of her?"

"She has followed thee here. She affects the greatest devotion to thee. She
vows that nothing shall make her budge until thou hast recovered from thy
ecstasy, and admitted her as thy disciple. She has rejected numerous
overtures from the philosopher Theocles; entirely for thy sake, she
affirms. She comes three times a day to inquire respecting thy condition,
and I fear it must be acknowledged that she has once or twice managed to
get into thy chamber."

"O ye immortal Gods!" groaned Plotinus.

"Here she is!" exclaimed Porphyry, as a woman of masculine stature and
bearing, with the remains of beauty not unskilfully patched, forced an
entrance into the room.

"Plotinus," she exclaimed, "behold the most impassioned of thy disciples.
Le