It was natural that Plotinus should appeal to Gallienus, now returned from the Gallic expedition, but he could extract nothing save mysterious intimations that the Emperor had his eye upon the philosophers, and that they might find him among them when they least expected it.  Plotinus’s spirits drooped, and Porphyry was almost glad when he again relapsed into an ecstasy.

III

When Plotinus’s eyes were at length opened, they fell not this time upon the faithful Porphyry, but upon two youthful followers of Plato who were beguiling the tedium of their vigil at his bedside by a game of dice, which prevented their observing his resuscitation.  After a moment’s hesitation Plotinus resolved to lie quiet in the hopes of hearing something that might indicate what influences were in the ascendant in the philosophical republic.  He had not long to wait.

“Dice is dull work for long,” said one of the young men, indolently throwing himself back, and letting his caster fall upon the floor.  “To think how much better one might be employed, but for having to watch this old fool here!  I’ve a great mind to call up a slave.”

“All the slaves are sure to have gone to the show, unless any of them should be Christians.  Besides, Porphyry would hear you, he’s only in a cat’s sleep,” returned his companion.

“Well, I mean to say it’s a shame.  All the town will be in the theatre by this time.”

“How many gladiators, said you?”

“Forty pairs, the best show Campania has seen time out of mind.”

“How has it all come about?”

“Oh, news comes of the death of Postumus, killed by his own soldiers, and this passes as a great victory for want of a better, ’We must have a day of thanksgiving,’ says Theocles.  ‘Right,’ says Leaena, ’I am dying to see an exhibition of gladiators.’  Theocles demurs at first, expecting to have to find the money—­but Leaena tugs at his beard, and he gives in.  Just at the nick of time the right sort of fellow pops up nobody knows whence, a lanista with hair like curling helichryse, as Theocritus has it, and a small army of gladiators, whom, out of devotion to the Emperor, he offers to exhibit for nothing.  Who so pleased as Theocles now?  He takes the chair as archon with Leaena by his side, and off goes every soul in the place, except Pannychis, who cannot bear the sight of blood, and Porphyry, who is an outrageous humanitarian, and us poor devils left in charge of this old dreamer.”

“Couldn’t we leave him to mind himself?  He isn’t likely to awake yet.”

“Try him with your cloak-pin.”  The student detached the implement in question, which was about the size of a small stiletto.  Feeling uncertain what part of his person was to be the subject of experiment, Plotinus judged it advisable to manifest his recovery in an unmistakable fashion.

“O dear Master, what joy!” cried both the students in a breath.  “Porphyry!  Porphyry!”