s no concern of mine. All I say is,
that my people are great fools, like the rest of the world; and have,
for aught I know or care, some such intention. They won't succeed, of
course; and that is all you have to care for. But if you think it worth
the trouble--which I do not--I shall have to go to the synagogue on
business in a week or so, and then I would ask some of the Rabbis.'

'Laziest of men!--and I must answer Cyril this very day.'

'An additional reason for asking no questions of our people. Now you can
honestly say that you know nothing about the matter.'

'Well, after all, ignorance is a stronghold for poor statesmen. So you
need not hurry yourself.'

'I assure your excellency I will not.'

'Ten days hence, or so, you know.'

'Exactly, after it is all over.'

'And can't be helped. What a comfort it is, now and then, that Can't be
helped!'

'It is the root and marrow of all philosophy. Your practical man, poor
wretch, will try to help this and that, and torment his soul with ways
and means, and preventives and forestallings; your philosopher quietly
says--It can't be helped. If it ought to be, it will be--if it is, it
ought to be. We did not make the world, and we are not responsible for
it.--There is the sum and substance of all true wisdom, and the epitome
of all that has been said and written thereon from Philo the Jew to
Hypatia the Gentile. By the way, here's Cyril coming down the steps of
the Caesareum. A very handsome fellow, after all, though lie is looking
as sulky as a bear.'

'With his cubs at his heels. What a scoundrelly visage that tall
fellow-deacon, or reader, or whatever he is by his dress--has!'

'There they are--whispering together. Heaven give them pleasant thoughts
and pleasanter faces!'

'Amen!' quoth Orestes, with a sneer: and he would have said Amen in
good earnest, had he been able to take the liberty--which we shall--and
listen to Cyril's answer to Peter, the tall reader.

'From Hypatia's, you say? Why, he only returned to the city this
morning.'

'I saw his four-in-hand standing at her door, as I came down the Museum
Street hither, half an hour ago.'

'And twenty carriages besides, I don't doubt?'

'The street was blocked up with them. There! Look round the corner
now.--Chariots, litters, slaves, and fops.--When shall we see such a
concourse as that where it ought to be?'

Cyril made no answer; and Peter went on--'Where it ought to be, my
father--in front of your