"Hail, all hail to the great god!" cried Orpheus with hands outstretched
towards the temple.

"Yea, hail! for everlasting glory shall be his!" repeated his father.
"Great is Serapis, and his house and his image shall last. . ."

"Till the next full moon!" said a passer-by in a tone of sinister
mockery, shaking his fist in the face, as it were, of the god. Orpheus
turned quickly to punish the prophet of evil; but he had disappeared in
the crowd and the tide of men had borne him onwards. "Till the next full
moon!" murmured Agne, who had shuddered at her companion's rapturous
ejaculations, and she glanced uneasily at Orpheus; but by the time Herse
addressed her a minute or two later she had controlled the expression of
her features, and the matron's heart was gladdened by her bright smile.
Nay, many a young Alexandrian, passing the group on foot or in a
carriage, looked at her a second time, for that smile lent a mysterious
charm to her pale, calm face. Nor had it faded away when they had
crossed the bridge and were nearing the shores of the lake, for an idea
once conceived lingered long in Agne's mind; and as she walked on in the
bright glory of the morning's sun her mind's eye was fixed on a nocturnal
scene--on the full moon, high in the sky--on the overthrow of the great
idol and a glittering army among the marble ruins of the Serapeum.
Apostles and martyrs soared around, the Saviour sat enthroned in glory
and triumph, while angels, cradled on the clouds that were his footstool,
were singing beatific hymns which sounded clearly in her ear above the
many-voiced tumult of the quays. The vision did not vanish till she was
desired to get into the boat.

Herse was a native of Alexandria and Karnis had passed some of the best