he were prepared to soar
and uttered a fervent and inspired prayer in which he rehearsed to the
gods all that he and his had done in their honor and vowed to offer them
fresh sacrifices. His expressions were so lofty, and his flow of language
so beautiful and free, that Porphyrius did not dare to interrupt him,
though this long delay on the part of the leader of the cause made him
intolerably anxious. When the old man--who was as emotional as a
boy--ceased speaking, his white beard was wet with tears, and seeing that
even Damia's and Gorgo's eyes were moist, he was preparing to address
them again; but Porphyrius interposed. He gave him time only to press his
lips to Datnia's hand and to bid Gorgo farewell.

"You were born into stirring times," he said to her, "but under a good
sign. Two worlds are in collision; which shall survive?--For you, my
darling, I have but one wish: May you be happy!"

He left the room and the merchant paced up and down lost in gloomy
thoughts. Presently, as he caught his mother's eye fixed uneasily upon
him, he murmured, less to her than to himself: "If he can think thus of
what the end will be, who can still dare to hope?" Damia drew herself up
in her chair.

"I," she exclaimed passionately, "I--I dare, and I do hope and trust in
the future. Is everything to perish which our forefathers planned and
founded? Is this dismal superstition to overwhelm and bury the world and
all that is bright and beautiful, as the lava stream rolled over the
cities of Vesuvius? No, a thousand times no! Our retrograde and cowardly
generation, which has lost all heart to enjoy life in sheer dread of
future annihilation, may perhaps be doomed by the gods, as was that of
Deucalion's day. Well--if so, what must be must! But such a world as they
dream of never can, never will last. Let them succeed in their monstrous
scheme! if the Temple of temples, the House of Serapis, were to be in
ashes and the image of the mighty god to be dashed to pieces, what
then. . . . I say what then? Then indeed everything will be at an end--we,
everybody; but they too, they, too, will perish."

She clenched her fist with hatred and revenge and went on: "I know what I
know--there are legible and infallible signs, and it is given to me to
interpret them, and I tell you: It is true, unerringly true, as every
Alexandrian child has learnt from its nurse: When Serapis falls the earth
will collapse like a dry puff-ball under a horse's hoof. A