Recalled by the sight of the armed men, the priests and the attendant
crowd of people who were advancing to invade his sanctuary, to the days
when he had defended the great Temple of Serapis at Alexandria, against
enemies similar in appearance, though far superior in numbers; persuaded
in the revival of these, the most sanguinary visions of his insanity,
that he was still resisting the Christian fanatics, supported by his
adherents in his sacred fortress of former years, the Pagan displayed
none of his accustomed cunning and care in moving through the darkness
around him. He hurried hither and thither, encouraging his imaginary
followers, and glorying in his dreams of slaughter and success,
forgetful in his frenzy of all that the temple contained.
As he pursued his wild course round and round the altar of idols, his
robe became entangled, and was torn by the projecting substances at one
corner of it. The whole overhanging mass tottered at the moment, but
did not yet fall. A few of the smaller idols, however, at the outside
dropped to the ground, and with them an image of Serapis, which they
happened partially to support--a heavy monstrous figure, carved life-
size in wood, and studded with gold, silver, and precious stones--fell
at the Pagan's feet.
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