expects to last for another ten years. The sacrifices have dwindled down to
nothing. Zeus has put down his eagle. Hera has eaten her peacocks. Apollo's
lyre is never heard--pawned, no doubt. Bacchus drinks water, and
Venus--well, you can imagine how she gets on without him and Ceres. And
here you are, sleek and comfortable, and never troubling yourself about
your family. But you had better, or I swear I will tell Zeus; and we shall
see whether these Christians will keep you with your ante-chamber full of
starving gods. Take a day to think of what I have been saying!"

And away she flounced, not noticing Elenko. Long and earnestly did the pair
discuss the perils that menaced them, and at the end of their deliberations
Elenko sought the Bishop, and briefly imparted the Princess Miriam's
ultimatum.

"It is painful to a spiritual man," replied the prelate, "to be accessory
to a murder. It is also repugnant to his feelings to deny a beloved niece
anything on which she has set her heart. To avoid such grievous dilemma, I
judge it well that ye both ascend to heaven without further ceremony."

That night the ascent of Prometheus and Elenko was witnessed by divers
credible persons. The new church was consecrated shortly afterwards. It was
amply stored with relics from the wardrobe of Prometheus and what remained
of the eagle. The damsels of the capital regained their admirers, and
those who had become enamoured of Prometheus mostly transferred their
affections to the Bishop. Everybody was satisfied except the Princess
Miriam, who never ceased to deplore her indulgence in giving Elenko the
chance of first speech with her uncle.

"If I had been five minutes beforehand with the minx!" she said.