the hemicycle, at the foot of the statue of Concord, raised there to
appease quarrels between the merchants. In the court-yard, the huge
blocks of stone still standing were the tables on which their goods were
spread. The cistern and the large vats yielded the conveniences to wash
them. In fine, the Chalcidicum was the smaller Exchange, and the niches
still seen there must have been the stands of the auctioneers. But what
was there in common between this market, this fullers' counter, and the
melancholy priestess?

Religion at that period entered into everything, even into trade and
industry. A secret door put the edifice of Eumachia in communication
with the adjacent temple. That temple, which was dedicated to
Mercury--why to Mercury?--or to Quirinus--why _not_ to Mercury?--at this
day forms a small museum of precious relics. The entrance to it is
closed with a grating through which a sufficient view may be had of the
bas-relief on the altar, representing a sacrifice. A personage whose
head is half-veiled presides at the ceremony; behind that person a child
carries the consecrated water in a vase, and the _victimarius_, bearing
an axe, leads the bull that is to be offered up. Behind the sacrificial
party are some flute-players. On the two sides of the altar other
bas-reliefs represent the instruments that were used at the sacrifices;
the _lituus_, or curved staff of the augur; the _acerra_, or perfuming
censer; the _mantile_, or consecrated cloth that--let us simply say, the
napkin,--and, finally, the vases peculiar to these ceremonies, the
_patere_, the _simpulum_, and the _prefericulum_.

That altar is the only curiosity in the temple. The remainder is not
worth the trouble of being studied or reconstructed. The mural paintings
form an adornment of questionable taste. A rear door puts the temple in
communication with the _Senaculum_, or Senate-house, as the neighboring