niscient Creator of the Universe than our fellow-fools!

So Dame Maria sat there in sour and virtuous dignity, looking like the
Virgin Mary as painters and sculptors were at that time wont to represent
her; and her farmer-son shuddered whenever his eye fell on his
step-mother. It did him good, by contrast, to hear a hearty peal of
laughter that came up from the lowest ranks of the podium. When he had
discovered the spot from whence it proceeded he could hardly believe his
eyes, for there sat the long-sought Dada, between an old man and a young
woman, laughing as though something had just occurred to amuse her
extremely. Demetrius stretched his limbs with a feeling of relief and
satisfaction; then he rose, and seeing his city agent seated just behind
the girl, he begged him to change places with him, as he thought it
advisable not to lose sight of the game now it was caught; the old man
was very ready to oblige him and went up to the other seat with a meaning
smile.

For the first time since she could recollect anything Dada had spent a
sleepless night. Whether the wind and thunder would have sufficed to keep
her awake who can tell; but the thoughts that had whirled through her
brain had been varied and exciting enough to rob her of sleep. Her own
people who were fighting for Serapis--how were they faring; and
Agne--what had become of her? Then her mind turned to the church, and the
worthy old priest's sermon; to the races that she was to see--and the
face and figure of the handsome young Christian rose vividly and
irresistibly before her fancy. Of course--of course, she wished his
horses to win; but it was strange enough that she, Karnis' niece, should
be on the side of the Christians. Stranger still that she had entirely
ceased to believe in all the abuse which, from her earliest childhood,
she had heard heaped on the followers of the crucified Jew. It could only
be that Karnis had never been able to forgive them for having ruined his
theatre at Tauromenium, and so, perhaps, had never known them thoroughly.

She had enjoyed many a happy hour at the festivals of the old gods; and
they were no doubt beautiful and festive divinities, or terrible when
they were wroth; still, in the depths of her soul there had for some time
lurked a vague, sweet longing which found no fulfilment in any heathen
temple. She knew no name for it and would have found it hard to describe,
but in the church, listening to the prayers and hymns an