the ship, but at another heavy peal of thunder set down the litter to
throw themselves on their knees and beseech the angry god for mercy.

Gras, the steward whom Archias had given to his daughter, a Bithynian who
had attached himself to one school of philosophy after an other, and
thereby ceased to believe in the power of the Olympians, lost his quiet
composure in this confusion, and even his usual good nature deserted him.
With harsh words, and no less harsh blows, he rushed upon the servants,
who, instead of carrying the costly household utensils and embroidered
cushions into the tent, drew out their amulets and idols to confide their
own imperilled lives to the protection of higher powers.

Meanwhile the gusts of wind which accompanied the outbreak of the storm
extinguished the lamps and pitch-pans. The awning was torn from the
posts, and amid the wild confusion rang the commandant of Pelusium's
shouts for Althea and the screams of two Egyptian slave women, who, with
their foreheads pressed to the ground, were praying, while the angry Gras
was trying, by kicks and blows, to compel them to rise and go to work.

The officers were holding a whispered consultation whether they should
accept the invitation of Proclus and spend the short remnant of the night
on his galley over the wine, or first, according to the counsel of their
pious commandant, wait in the neighbouring temple of Zeus until the storm
was over.

The tempest had completely scattered Daphne's guests. Even Ledscha
glanced very rarely toward the tents. She had thrown her self on the
ground under the sycamore to beseech the angry deity for mercy, but,
deeply as fear moved her agitated soul, she could not pray, but listened
anxiously whenever an unexpected noise came from the meeting place of the