ad almost to tears.

The streets were lined with thousands of the pleasure-loving people of
the city, who had come out to see the show of the Empress going in state
to the cathedral. They were gathered even on the flat house-tops and in
the entrances to the public buildings and open places. But the glory
of the sight was centred, not about me, with my escort of guards
and chanting priests, but in Irene's self. Preceded and followed
by glittering regiments of soldiers, she drove in her famous golden
chariot, drawn by eight milk-white steeds, each of which was led by
a bejewelled noble. Her dress was splendid and covered with sparkling
gems, and on her yellow hair she wore a crown. As she went the
multitudes shouted their welcome, and she bowed to right and left in
answer to the shouts. Now and again, however, bands of armed men, clad
in a dress of a peculiar colour, emerged from side streets and hooted,
crying:

"Where is the Augustus? Give us the Augustus. We will not be ruled by a
woman and her eunuchs!"

These men were of the party of Constantine, and set on by him. Once,
indeed, there was a tumult, for some of them tried to bar the road, till
they were driven away, leaving a few dead or wounded behind them. But
still the crowds shouted and the Empress bowed as though nothing had
happened, and thus by a somewhat winding route, we came to St. Sophia.

The Augusta entered, and presently I and those with me followed her
into the wonderful cathedral. I see it now, not in particular, but as
a whole, with its endless columns, its aisles and apses, and its
glittering mosaics shining through the holy gloom, across which shot
bars of light from the high window-places. All the great place was full
of the noblest in the city, rank upon rank of them, come thither to see
the Empress in her glory at the great Feast of St. Michael, which year
by year she attended thus.

At the altar waited the Patriarch in his splendid robes, attended by
many bishops and priests, among them Barnabas of Egypt. The service
began, I and some other converts standing together near to the altar
rail. The details of it do not return to me. Sweet voices sang, censers
gave forth their incense, banners waved, and images of the saints,
standing everywhere, smiled upon us fixedly. Some of us were baptised,
and some who had already been baptised were received publicly into the
fellowship of the Church, I among them. My god-father, Stauracius, a
deacon prom