s, there was an altar before an image of Isis, quite
freshly anointed.--This Porphyrius is a very rich merchant; we learnt
that afterwards, and many other things. The philosopher asked us at once
whether we were aware that Theodosius had lately promulgated a new edict
forbidding young maidens to appear in public as singers or
flute-players."

"And did Agne hear that?" said the old man in a low voice as he pointed
to the curtain.

"No, she and Dada were in the garden on to which the room opened, and
mother explained at once that though Agne was a Christian she was a very
good girl, and that so long as she remained in our service she was bound
to sing with us whenever she was required. The philosopher exclaimed at
once: 'The very thing!' and they whispered together, and called the girls
and desired them to show what they could do."

"And how did they perform?" asked the old man, who was growing excited.

"Dada warbled like a lark, and Agne--well you know how it always is. Her
voice sounded lovely but it was just as usual. You can guess how much
there is in her and how deep her feeling is but she never quite brings it
out. What has she to complain of with us? And yet whatever she sings has
that mournful, painful ring which even you can do nothing to alter.
However, she pleased them better than Dada did, for I noticed that Gorgo
and the gentleman glanced at each other and at her, and whispered a word
now and then which certainly referred to Ague. When they had sung two
songs the young lady came towards us and praised both the girls, and
asked whether we would undertake to learn something quite new. I told her
that my father was a great musician who could master the most difficult
things at the first hearing."

"The most difficult! Hm . . . that depends," said the old man. "Did she show
it you?"

"No; it is something in the style of Linus and she sang it to us."

"The daughter of the rich Porphyrius sang for your entertainment? Yours?"
said Karnis laughing. "By Sirius! The world is turning upside down. Now
that girls are forbidden to perform to the gentlefolks, art is being
cultivated by the upper classes; it cannot be killed outright. For the
future the listeners will be paid to keep quiet and the singers pay for
the right of torturing their ears--our ears, our luckless ears will be
victimized."

Orpheus smiled and shook his head; then, again dropping his knife, he
went on eagerly:

"But if you could only hear he