"Just think, the Christians have six times as many feast days as Hellenists! Nobody harms you.... I advise you to follow my example. One is much freer among Christians." Where four roads met, the pressure of a crowd pinned Gnyphon and Zotick against the wall. In the middle of the street there was a block in the traffic; the chariots could neither advance nor draw back; shouts, oaths, blows of the whip, were exchanged. Forty oxen were dragging, on an enormous stone-wheeled cart, a jasper column. The earth shook under its weight. "Whither are you dragging that?" asked Gnyphon. "From the Basilica to the Temple of Hera. The Christians had carried it off for their church. Now it is going back to its proper position." Gnyphon glanced at the dirty wall against which he was leaning, on which Pagan urchins had drawn the usual impious caricatures of the Christians. Gnyphon turned and spat with indignation. On one side of the crowded market-place they observed the portrait of Julian, arrayed in all the symbols of Imperial power. The winged god Hermes was coming down from the clouds towards him. The portrait was fresh and the colours not yet dry. Now according to the Roman law every passer-by had to salute any picture of Augustus. The Agoranome, or inspector of the market, stopped a little old woman carrying a large basket of cabbages. "I never salute the gods," wept the old woman. "My father and mother were Christians." "You haven't got to salute the god, but the Emperor!" "But the Emperor is alongside of the god! So how should I salute him?" "No matter! You were told to salute and not to argue!" Gnyphon dragged Zotick farther on as quickly as possible. "Devilish trick," he grumbled, "either salute the accursed Hermes, or be accused of insulting the sovereign! No way out!... Oh! oh! oh! the day of Antichrist! In one way or another we're always sinning! When I see you, Zotick, envy gnaws my very soul. You live with your dunghill goddess, and have no cares." They reached the Temple of Dionysus, hard by a Christian monastery, the windows and doors of which were fast barred as against the approach of an enemy. The Hellenists accused the monks of having pillaged the temple. When Gnyphon and Zotick went into the temple, carpenters and timberers were already at work. The planks which had been used to close the quadrilateral to the sky were dragged down, and the sun poured into the gloomy building. "Just look at the cobwebs, look, look!" Between the capitals of the columns hung masses of grey webs, which were being hastily cleaned away by means of rag-mops on immense poles. A bat, disturbed in his lair, flew away from a dark crevice, rushing hither and thither to hide himself from the light, striking himself against all the corners. The rustling of his soft wings could be distinctly heard. Zotick began sorting the rubbish and throwing it into baskets while the old man mumbled, "Ah, these cursed fellows! what foulness they have heaped up!"