“Who is the new lover you have brought?” asked Drosea.  “He has a strange, wild appearance.  If there are shepherds of elephants, assuredly he must resemble one.  Where did you find such a wild-looking friend, Thais?  Was it amongst the troglodytes who live under the earth, and are grimy with the smoke of Hades?”

But Philina put her finger on Drosea’s lips.

“Hush! the mysteries of love must remain secret, and it is forbidden to know them.  For my own part, certainly, I would rather be kissed by the mouth of smoking Etna than by the lips of that man.  But our dear Thais, who is beautiful and adorable as the goddesses, should, like the goddesses, grant all requests, and not, like us, only those of nice young men.”

“Take care, both of you!” replied Thais.  “He is a mage and an enchanter.  He hears words that are whispered, and even thoughts.  He will tear out your heart while you are asleep, and put a sponge in its place, and the next day, when you drink water, you will be choked to death.”

She watched them grow pale, then she turned away from them, and sat on a couch by the side of Paphnutius.  The voice of Cotta, kind but imperious, was suddenly heard above the murmur of conversation.

“Friends, let each take his place!  Slaves, pour out the honeyed wine!”

Then, the host raising his cup—­

“Let us first drink to the divine Constantine and the genius of the empire.  The country should be put first of all, even above the gods, for it contains them all.”

All the guests raised their full cups to their lips.  Paphnutius alone did not drink, because Constantine had persecuted the Nicaean faith, and because the country of the Christian is not of this world.

Dorion, having drunk, murmured—­

“What is one’s country?  A flowing river.  The shores change, and the waves are incessantly renewed.”

“I know, Dorion,” replied the Prefect of the Fleet, “that you care little for the civic virtues, and you think that the sage ought to hold himself aloof from all affairs.  I think, on the contrary, that an honest man should desire nothing better than to fill a responsible post in the State.  The State is a noble thing.”

Hermodorus, the High Priest of Serapis, spoke next—­

“Dorion has asked, ‘What is one’s country?’ I will reply that the altars of the gods and the tombs of ancestors make one’s country.  A man is a fellow-citizen by association of memories and hopes.”

Young Aristobulus interrupted Hermodorus.

“By Castor!  I saw a splendid horse to-day.  It belonged to Demophoon.  It has a fine head, small jaw, and strong forelegs.  It carries its neck high and proud, like a cock.”

But young Chereas shook his head.

“It is not such a good horse as you say, Aristobulus.  Its hoofs are thin, and the pasterns are too low; the animal will soon go lame.”

They were continuing their dispute, when Drosea uttered a piercing shriek.