tions in her honor, and to join hands and dance in a giddy
maze round her car.

"Take her to Serapis!" shouted a drunken student. "Marry her to the god.
Heavenly Love should be his bride!"

"Yes--take her to Serapis," yelled another. "It is the wedding of Serapis
and Glycera."

The crazy rabble pushed the machine towards the curtain, with the
beautiful, laughing woman on the top, and her bevy of languishing
attendants.

Until this instant the vivid lightning outside, and the growling of
distant thunder had not been heeded by the revellers, but now a blinding
flash lighted up the hall and, at the same instant, a tremendous peal
crashed and rattled just above them, and shook the desecrated shrine. A
sulphurous vapor came rolling in at the openings just below the roof, and
this first flash was immediately followed by another which seemed to have
rent the vault of heaven, for it was accompanied by a deafening and
stunning roar and a terrific rumbling and creaking, as though the metal
walls of the firmament had burst asunder and fallen in on the earth--on
Alexandria--on the Serapeum.

The whole awful force of an African tempest came crashing down upon them;
the wild revel was stilled; the trembling topers dropped their cups,
fevered checks turned pale, the dancers parted and threw up their hands
in agonized supplication, words of lust and blasphemy died on their lips
and turned to prayers and muttered charms. The terrified nymphs that
surrounded Venus sprang from the car, and the foam-born goddess in the
shell tried to free herself from the garlands and gauzes in which she was
involved, shrieking aloud when she perceived that she could not descend
unaided from her elevated position. Other voices mingled with
hers--lamenting, cursing, and entreating; for now the rainclouds burst,
and through the window-openings poured a cold flood, chilling and wetting
the drunken mob within.

The storm raved through the halls and corridors; lightning and thunder
raged fiercely overhead; and the terrified wretches, suddenly sobered,
rushed about or huddled together, like ants whose nest has been upturned.
And into the midst of this dismayed throng rushed Orpheus, the son of
Karnis, who had been till now on guard on the roof, crying out: "The
world is coming to an end, the heavens are opening! Father--where is my
father?"

And everyone believed him; they snatched off their garlands, tore their
hair and gave themselves up to the utmost