unity--say rather, various phases of that unity, as
it has been variously conceived, according to the differences of climate
and race, by the wise of different nations. And thus, in our eyes, he
who reverences the many, worships by that very act, with the highest
and fullest adoration, the one of whose perfection they are the partial
antitypes; perfect each in themselves, but each the image of only one of
its perfections.'

'Why, then,' said Philammon, much relieved by this explanation, 'do you
so dislike Christianity? may it not be one of the many methods--'

'Because,' she answered, interrupting him impatiently, 'because it
denies itself to be one of those many methods, and stakes its existence
on the denial; because it arrogates to itself the exclusive revelation
of the Divine, and cannot see, in its self-conceit, that its own
doctrines disprove that assumption by their similarity to those of all
creeds. There is not a dogma of the Galileans which may not be found,
under some form or other, in some of those very religions from which it
pretends to disdain borrowing.'

'Except,' said Theon, 'its exaltation of all which is human and
low-born, illiterate, and levelling.'

'Except that--. But look! here comes some one whom I cannot--do not
choose to meet. Turn this way--quick!'

And Hypatia, turning pale as death, drew her father with unphilosophic
haste down a side-walk.

'Yes,' she went on to herself, as soon as she had recovered her
equanimity. 'Were this Galilean superstition content to take its place
humbly among the other "religiones licitas" of the empire, one might
tolerate it well enough, as an anthropomorphic adumbration of divine
things fitted for the base and toiling herd; perhaps peculiarly fitted,
because peculiarly flattering to them. But now--'

'There is Miriam again,' said Philammon, 'right before us!'

'Miriam?' asked Hypatia severely. 'You know her then? How is that?'

'She lodges at Eudaimon's house, as I do,' answered Philammon frankly.
'Not that I ever interchanged, or wish to interchange, a word with so
base a creature.'

'Do not! I charge you!' said Hypatia, almost imploringly. But there was
now no way of avoiding her, and perforce Hypatia and her tormentress met
face to face.

'One word! one moment, beautiful lady,' began the old woman, with a
slavish obeisance. 'Nay, do not push by so cruelly. I have--see what I
have for you!' and she held out with a mysterious air, 'The Rainbow of