r to be remarked that the old courtier who sneered
at Chrysostomus was devoured by envy of his good fortune, and would have
given his right eye to have been in his place.

"Chrysostomus," pursued Basil, "we must now think of the hapless Photinius.
That unfortunate father is doubtless in an agony of grief which renders the
forfeiture of the remains of his possessions indifferent to him. Thou, his
successor therein, mayest be regarded as in some sort his son-in-law. Go,
therefore, and comfort him, and report to me upon his condition."

Chrysostomus accordingly proceeded to the monastery, where he was informed
that Photinius had retired with his spiritual adviser, and could on no
account be disturbed.

"It is on my head to see the Emperor's orders obeyed," returned
Chrysostomus, and forced the door. The bereaved parent was busily engaged
in sticking pins into a wax effigy of Basil, under the direction of
Panurgiades, already honourably mentioned in this history.

"Wretched old man!" exclaimed Chrysostomus, "is this thy grief for thy
daughter?"

"My grief is great," answered Photinius, "but my time is small. If I turn
not every moment to account, I shall never be prime minister again. But all
is over now. Thou wilt denounce me, of course. I will give thee a counsel.
Say that thou didst arrive just as we were about to place the effigy of
Basil before a slow fire, and melt it into a caldron of bubbling poison."

"I shall report what I have seen," replied Chrysostomus, "neither more nor
less. But I think I can assure thee that none will suffer for this mummery
except Panurgiades, and that he will at most be whipped."

"Chrysostomus," said Basil, on receiving the report, "lust of power, a
fever in youth, is a leprosy in age. The hoary statesman out of place would
sell his daughter, his country, his soul, to regain it: yea, he would part
with his skin and his senses, were it possible to hold office without them.
I commiserate Photinius, whose faculties are clearly on the decline; the
day has been when he would not have wasted his time sticking pins into a
waxen figure. I will give him some shadow of authority to amuse his old
days and keep him out of mischief. The Abbot of Catangion is just dead.
Photinius shall succeed him."

So Photinius received the tonsure and the dignity, and made a very
tolerable Abbot. It is even recorded to his honour that he bestowed a
handsome funeral on his old enemy Eustathius.

Helladia ma