Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English
Dada had listened to the deacon's address with no particular interest,
but the conclusion struck her attention. The old man looked dignified
and honest; but Father Karnis was a well-meaning man, no doubt, and one
of those who are wont to keep on the winning side. How was it that the
preacher could draw so pitiable a picture of the very same god whose
greatness her uncle had praised in such glowing terms only two days
since? How could the same thing appear so totally different to two
different people?
The priest looked more sagacious than the musician; Marcus, the young
Christian, had a most kind heart; there was not a better or gentler
creature under the sun than Agne--it was quite possible that Christianity
was something very different in reality from what her foster parents
chose to represent. As to the frightful consequences of the overthrow of
the temple of Serapis, on that point she was completely reassured, and
she prepared to listen with greater attention as Eusebius went on:
"Let us rejoice, beloved! The great idol's days are numbered! Do you
know what that false worship has been in our midst? It has been like a
splendid and richly-dressed trireme sailing, plague-stricken, into a
harbor full of ships and boats. Woe to those who allow themselves to be
tempted on board by the magnificence of its decorations! How great is
their chance of infection, how easily they will carry it from ship to
ship, and from the ships on to the shore, till the pestilence has spread
from the harbor to the city! Let us then be thankful to those who
destroy the gorgeous vessel, who drive it from amongst us, or sink or
burn it. May our Father in Heaven give courage to their hearts, strength
to their hands and blessing on their deeds! When we hear: "Great Serapis
has fallen to the earth and is no more, we and the world are free from
him! then, in this city, and wherever Christians dwell and worship, let a
solemn festival be held.
"But still let us be just, still let us bear in mind all the great and
good gifts that the trireme brought to our parents when it rode the waves
manned by a healthy crew. If we do, it will be with sincere pity that we
shall watch the proud vessel sink to the bottom, and we shall understand
the grief of those whom once it bore over ebb and flow, and who believe
they owe every thing to it. We shall rejoice doubly, too, to think that
we ourselves have a safe bark with stout planks and strong masts, and a
trustworthy pilot at the helm; and that we may confidently invite others
to join us on board as soon as they have purified themselves of the
plague with which they have been smitten.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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