with splendid mansions, which seemed to be drowsy with perfumes. Pines,
maples, and larches raised their heads above the red cornices and golden
acroteria. Through the half-open doors could be seen bronze statues
in marble vestibules, and fountains playing amidst foliage. No noise
troubled the stillness of these quiet retreats. Only the distant strains
of a flute could be heard. The monk stopped before a house, rather
small, but of noble proportions, and supported by columns as graceful as
young girls. It was ornamented with bronze busts of the most celebrated
Greek philosophers.

He recognised Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, Epicurus, and Zeno, and
having knocked with the hammer against the door, he waited, wrapped in
meditation.

"It is vanity to glorify in metal these false sages; their lies are
confounded, their souls are lost in hell, and even the famous Plato
himself, who filled the earth with his eloquence, now disputes with the
devils."

A slave opened the door, and seeing a man with bare feet standing on the
mosaic threshold, said to him roughly--

"Go and beg elsewhere, stupid monk, or I will drive you away with a
stick."

"Brother," replied the Abbott of Antinoe, "all that I ask is that you
conduct me to your master, Nicias."

The slave replied, more angrily than before--