temple, and I heard the neighing of his horses. It was not an illusion,
I heard it with my own ears...."

"The horses of Poseidon!" interrupted Olympius. "The horses of the
Imperial cavalry were what you heard!"

He ran to the window with the activity of a younger man and, lifting the
curtain, looked out to the eastward. The storm had vanished as rapidly
as it had come up and it was day. Over the rosy skirts of Eos hung a
full and heavy robe of swelling grey and black clouds, edged with a
fringe of sheeny gold. To the north a sullen flash now and then
zigzagged across the dark sky, and the roll of the thunder was faint
and distant; but the horses whose neighing had affrighted Orpheus were
already near; they were standing close to the southern or back-wall of
the temple, in which there was no gate or entrance of any kind. What
object could the Imperial cavalry have in placing themselves by that
strong and impenetrable spot?

But there was no time for much consideration, for at this instant the
gong, which was sounded to call the defenders of the Serapeum together,
rang through the precincts.

Olympius needed no spur or encouragement. He turned to his guests with
the passion and fire of a fanatical leader, of the champion of a great
but imperilled cause, and bid them be men and stand by him to resist the
foe till death. His voice was husky with excitement as he spoke his
brief but vehement call to arms, and the effect was immense, precisely
because the speaker, carried away by the tide of feeling, had not tried
to impress the learned and eloquent men whom he addressed by any tricks
of elocution or choice of words. They, too, were fired by the spark of