again. Then, suddenly raising it, he rushed to the door, and without
heeding the upper garment which Helena still held in her hand, tore it
open, shouting, "But things must and shall be changed!"

Euphranor and his granddaughter followed. Though his head was bowed, he
crossed the little garden with a swift, firm tread, and, without noticing
the questions and warnings of his companions, walked at once to the
impluvium. The bright light dazzled his weakened eyes, and his habit of
gazing into vacancy or on the ground compelled him to glance from side to
side for some time, ere he could accustom himself to it. Apollonius
approached, greeted him respectfully, and assured him that he deeply
regretted having interrupted him in the work for which the whole world
was waiting, but he had come on important business.

"I know, I know," the old scholar answered with a smile of superiority.
"What is all this ado about?"

As he spoke he looked around the group of spectators, among whom he knew
no one except Apollonius, who had charge of the museum accounts, and the
architect, for whom he had composed the inscription on the Odeum, which
he had recently built. But when his eyes met only unfamiliar faces, the
confidence which hitherto had sustained him began to waver, though still
convinced that a demand such as the philosopher suggested could not
possibly be made upon him, he continued: "It is stated that there is a
plan for turning my garden into a public square. And for what purpose?
To erect a piece of sculpture. But there can be nothing serious in the
rumour, for my property is recorded in the land register, and the law--"

"Pardon me," Apollonius broke in, "if I interrupt you. We know the
ordinance to which you refer, but this case is an exceptional one.