ny
chambermaids, and pages, and cooks, and perfumers, and tiring women and
bath attendants would be required, ere Leaena could feel herself moderately
comfortable. How unlike the modest Pannychis! who wanted but half a bed,
which need not be stuffed with the down of hares or the feathers of
partridges, without which sleep refused to visit Leaena's eyelids.

It was natural that Plotinus should appeal to Gallienus, now returned from
the Gallic expedition, but he could extract nothing save mysterious
intimations that the Emperor had his eye upon the philosophers, and that
they might find him among them when they least expected it. Plotinus's
spirits drooped, and Porphyry was almost glad when he again relapsed into
an ecstasy.

III

When Plotinus's eyes were at length opened, they fell not this time upon
the faithful Porphyry, but upon two youthful followers of Plato who were
beguiling the tedium of their vigil at his bedside by a game of dice, which
prevented their observing his resuscitation. After a moment's hesitation
Plotinus resolved to lie quiet in the hopes of hearing something that might
indicate what influences were in the ascendant in the philosophical
republic. He had not long to wait.

"Dice is dull work for long," said one of the young men, indolently
throwing himself back, and letting his caster fall upon the floor. "To
think how much better one might be employed, but for having to watch this
old fool here! I've a great mind to call up a slave."

"All the slaves are sure to have gone to the show, unless any of them
should be Christians. Besides, Porphyry would hear you, he's only in a
cat's sleep," returned his companion.

"Well, I mean to say it's a shame. All the town will be in the theatre by
this time."

"How many gladiators, said you?"

"Forty pairs, the best show Campania has seen time out of mind."

"How has it all come about?"

"Oh, news comes of the death of Postumus, killed by his own soldiers, and
this passes as a great victory for want of a better, 'We must have a day
of thanksgiving,' says Theocles. 'Right,' says Leaena, 'I am dying to see
an exhibition of gladiators.' Theocles demurs at first, expecting to have
to find the money--but Leaena tugs at his beard, and he gives in. Just at
the nick of time the right sort of fellow pops up nobody knows whence, a
lanista with hair like curling helichryse, as Theocritus has it, and a
small army of gladiators, whom, out of devotion to