Serapis | Page 7

of the Holy Martyr," was
the widow of Apelles, the brother of Porphyrius, but she had ceased all
intercourse with her husband's family. This was but natural, as she was
at the head of the Christian women of Alexandria, while the household
of Porphyrius--though the master himself had been baptized--was as
thoroughly heathen as any in Alexandria.
Karnis heard nothing of all this, for he came last of the party. Orpheus
and Agne followed next to Herse and the steward, and after them came
two slaves, carrying the lutes and pipes. Agne walked with downcast
eyes, as if she desired to avoid seeing all that surrounded her, though
when Orpheus addressed her she shyly glanced up at him and answered
briefly and timidly. They presently came out of an obscure alley by the
canal connecting Kibotus with Lake Mareotis where the Nile-boats lay
at anchor. Karnis drew a deeper breath, for here the air was clear and
balmy; a light northerly breeze brought the refreshing fragrance of the
sea, and the slender palm-trees that bordered the canal threw long
shadows mingling with the massive shade of the sycamores. The road
was astir with busy groups, birds sang in the trees, and the old musician
drank in the exciting and aromatic atmosphere of the Egyptian Spring
with keen enjoyment.
As they reached the middle of the steep bridge across the canal he
involuntarily stood still, riveted by the view of the southwest. In his
excitement he threw up his arms, his eyes glistened with moisture and
with the enthusiasm of youth, and, as was always the case when his
emotions were stirred by some glorious work of God or man, an image
rose to his mind, all unbidden--the image of his eldest son, now dead,
but in life his closest and most sympathetic comrade. He felt as though
his hand could grasp the shoulder of that son, too early snatched away,
whose gifts had far transcended those of the surviving Orpheus--as
though he too could gaze with him on the grand scene that lay before
him.
On a platform of rocks and mighty masonry rose a structure of
wonderful magnificence and beauty, so brilliantly illuminated by the
morning sun that its noble proportions and gorgeous colors showed in

dazzling splendor and relief. Over the gilt dome bent the cloudless blue
of the African sky, and the polished hemisphere shone, as radiant as the
sun whose beams it reflected. Sloping planes for vehicles, and flights of
steps for pedestrians led up to the gates. The lower part of this
wonderful edifice--the great Temple of Serapis--was built to stand
forever, and the pillars of the vestibule supported a roof more fitted to
the majesty of the gods than to the insignificance of mortals; priests and
worshippers moved here like children among the trunks of some
gigantic forest. Round the cornice, in hundreds of niches, and on every
projection, all the gods of Olympus and all the heroes and sages of
Greece seemed to have met in conclave, and stood gazing down on the
world in gleaming brass or tinted marble. Every portion of the building
blazed with gold and vivid coloring; the painter's hand had added life to
the marble groups in high relief that filled the pediments and the
smaller figures in the long row of metopes. All the population of a town
might have found refuge in the vast edifice and its effect on the mind
was like that of a harmonious symphony of adoration sung by a chorus
of giants.
"All hail! Great Serapis! I greet thee in joyful humility, thankful that
Thou hast granted to my old eyes to see Thy glorious and eternal
temple once again!" murmured Karnis in devout contemplation. Then,
appealing to his wife and son, he pointed in silence to the building.
Presently, however, as he watched Orpheus gazing in speechless
delight at its magnificent proportions he could not forbear.
"This," he began with fervid enthusiasm, "is the stronghold of Serapis
the King of the Gods! A work for all time. Its youth has lasted five
hundred years, its future will extend to all eternity.--Aye, so it is; and
so long as it endures in all its glory the old gods cannot be deposed!"
"No one will ever dare to touch a stone of it," said the steward. "Every
child in Alexandria knows that the world will crumble into dust and
ashes if a finger is laid on that Temple, and the man who ventures to
touch the sacred image. . ."
"The god can protect himself!" interrupted the singer. "But you--you
Christian hypocrites who pretend to hate life and love death--if you

really long so vehemently for the end of all things, you have only to fall
upon this glorious structure.--Do that, do that--only do that!"