d him frequently, laughing more loudly and recklessly than
usual; she was in a fever of excitement and Herse did not fail to remark
it. The good woman was somewhat uneasy. The very fact that her husband
always gave himself up heart and soul to the influences of the
hour--though she was glad that he should enjoy this good fortune to the
utmost--made her look beyond the present into the future. She had seen
with her own eyes the tumult that was rife in Alexandria, and felt that
they had arrived at an inauspicious moment. If it should come to a
struggle between the Christians and the Heathen, Karnis, finding that his
old friend Olympius was the head of his party, would infallibly seize the
sword, and if, then, the victory remained with the Christians no mercy
would be shown to those who had fought for the old gods. Gorgo's wish
that Agne should sing in the temple of Isis was another source of
anxiety; for if it came to that they might, only too probably, be accused
of perverting a Christian to heathen worship, and be condemned to a
severe penalty. All this had worn a very different aspect yesterday when
she had thought of Alexandria as the gay home of her youth; but now she
saw what a change had taken place in these thirty years. The Church had
risen on the ruins of the Temple, and monks had forced the sacrificing
priests into the background.
Karnis and his troupe were musicians of no ordinary stamp; still the law
concerning singing-girls might place him in peril, especially now
that--to make matters worse--a young Christian was paying court to his
pretty niece. What catastrophes might not be called down on his hapless
head if so influential a woman as Marcus' mother Mary should come to know
of her son's backsliding! Herse had long perceived how attractive that
little simpleton was to all men--old and young--and when one of the
lovers, of whom she had no lack, happened to take her fancy she was apt
to forget herself and play a too audacious game; but as soon as she found
she had gone too far and somewhat committed herself she would draw back
and meet him, if she could not avoid him, with repellent and even
unmannerly coldness. Again and again had Herse scolded and warned her,
but Dada always answered her reproofs by saying that she could not make
herself different from what she was, and Herse had never been able to
remain stern and severe in the face of the foolish excuses that Dada put
forward so convincingly.
To-day t
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