“Your own noble words, great Caesar, when, to your honor be it spoken, you reminded the misguided skeptic of the true meaning of the old gods and of what is due to them.  The god whom I serve, great Caesar, is second to none:  the heavens are his head, the ocean is his body, and the earth his feet; the sunshine is the light of his all-seeing eye, and everything which stirs in the heart or brain of man is an emanation of his divine spirit.  Thus he is the all-pervading soul of the universe, and a portion of that soul dwells in you, in me, in all of us.  His power is greater than any power on earth, and, though a well-grounded wrath and only too just indignation urge you to exert the power lent you by him—­”

“And I will exert it!” Caesar exclaimed with haughty rage.  “It reaches far.  I need no help, not even that of your god!”

“That I know,” replied Timotheus.  “And the god will let those fall into your hands who have sinned against your sacred majesty.  Any punishment, even the severest, will be pleasing in his sight which you may inflict on those guilty of high-treason, for you wear the purple as his gift and in his name; those who insult you sin also against the god.  I myself, with my small power, will help to bring the criminals to justice.  But when a whole population is accused, when it is beyond the power of human justice to separate the innocent from the guilty, punishment is the prerogative of the god.  He will visit on this city the crimes it has committed against you; and I implore you, in the name of your noble and admirable mother—­whom it has been my privilege to entertain under this roof, and who in gratitude for the favors of Serapis—­”

“And have I grudged sacrifices?” Caesar broke in.  “I have done my utmost to win the graces of your god—­and with what success?  Everything that can most aggrieve the heart of man has befallen me here under his eyes.  I have as much reason to complain of him as to accuse the reprobate natives of your city.  He, no doubt, knows how to be avenged; the three-headed monster at his feet does not look like a lap-dog.  Why, he would despise me if I should leave the punishment of the criminals to his tender mercies!  Nay, I can do that for myself.  Though you have seen me in many cases show mercy, it has always been for my mother’s sake.  You have done well to remind me of her.  That lady—­she is, I know, a votary of your god.  But to me the Alexandrians have dared to violate the laws of hospitality; to her they were cordial hosts.  I will remember that in their favor.  And if many escape unpunished, I would have the traitors to know that they owe it to the hospitality shown to my mother by their parents, or perhaps by themselves.”