She had performed her ‘Isis’ lament the day before with all her heart and soul, and had urgently claimed Agne’s assistance; but to-day, though she had been singing again and well, she had stopped to listen whenever she heard a door open in the adjoining room or voices in the garden, and had sung altogether with so much less feeling and energy than before that Karnis longed to reprove her sharply enough.  This, however, would have been too indiscreet, so he could only express his annoyance by saying to his son, in a loud whisper: 

“The most remarkable gifts, you see, and the highest abilities are of no avail so long as Art and Life are not one and the same—­so long as Art is not the Alpha and Omega of existence, but merely an amusement or a decoration.”

Agne had been true to herself, and had modestly but steadfastly declared that she could not possibly enter the temple of Isis, and her refusal had been accepted quite calmly, and without any argument or controversy.  She had not been able to refuse Gorgo’s request that she would repeat to-day the rehearsal she had gone through yesterday, since, to all appearance, her cooperation at the festival had been altogether given up.  How could the girl guess that the venerable philosopher, who had listened with breathless admiration to their joint performance, had taken upon himself to dissipate her doubts and persuade her into compliance?

Olympius laid the greatest stress on Agne’s assistance, for every one who clung to the worship of the old gods was to assemble in the sanctuary of Isis; and the more brilliant and splendid the ceremony could be made the more would that enthusiasm be fired which, only too soon, would be put to crucial proof.  On quitting the temple the crowd of worshippers, all in holiday garb, were to pass in front of the Prefect’s residence, and if only they could effect this great march through the city in the right frame of mind, it might confidently be expected that every one who was not avowedly Jew or Christian, would join the procession.  It would thus become a demonstration of overwhelming magnitude and Cynegius, the Emperor’s representative, could not fail to see what the feeling was of the majority of the towns folk, and what it was to drive matters to extremes and lay hands on the chief temples of such a city.

To Olympius the orator, grown grey in the exercise of logic and eloquence, it seemed but a small matter to confute the foolish doubts of a wilful girl.  He would sweep her arguments to the winds as the storm drives the clouds before it; and any one who had seen the two together—­the fine old man with the face and front of Zeus, with his thoughtful brow and broad chest, who could pour forth a flood of eloquence fascinatingly persuasive or convincingly powerful, and the modest, timid girl—­could not have doubted on which side the victory must be.