Olympius was still in concealment in the house of Porphyrius--Olympius,
whose mind and will had formerly had such imperious hold on the fate of
the city, and to whose nod above half of the inhabitants were still
obedient. Porphyrius and his family shared his views and regarded
themselves as his confederates; but, even among them, the minor details
of life claimed their place, and Gorgo, who entered into the struggle for
the triumph of the old gods, gave but a half-hearted attention to the
great cause to which she was enthusiastically devoted, because a
companion of her childhood, to whose attentions she had every claim,
delayed his visit longer than was kind.

She had performed her 'Isis' lament the day before with all her heart and
soul, and had urgently claimed Agne's assistance; but to-day, though she
had been singing again and well, she had stopped to listen whenever she
heard a door open in the adjoining room or voices in the garden, and had
sung altogether with so much less feeling and energy than before that
Karnis longed to reprove her sharply enough. This, however, would have
been too indiscreet, so he could only express his annoyance by saying to
his son, in a loud whisper:

"The most remarkable gifts, you see, and the highest abilities are of no
avail so long as Art and Life are not one and the same--so long as Art is
not the Alpha and Omega of existence, but merely an amusement or a
decoration."

Agne had been true to herself, and had modestly but steadfastly declared
that she could not possibly enter the temple of Isis, and her refusal had
been accepted quite calmly, and without any argument or controversy. She
had not been able to refuse Gorgo's request that she would repeat to-day