A broad flight of fine-grained red limestone stairs led up to a lofty platform of the same material, this splendid ascent being bordered on both sides by masses of dark green laurel trees, which accentuated the roseate tint of the staircase. On the platform, some distance back, arose a large edifice, somewhat after the model of the Parthenon at Athens, with graceful slender pillars of white marble supporting the weighty entablature, the frieze of which was delicately carved with god-like forms of nude youths, white-draped maidens, severe-faced old men, rearing horses, and seated deities. Above this the pediment, in the centre of which was sculptured a life-sized figure of Hephaistos, with his anvil and raised hammer, while the bas-reliefs on either side represented long trains of unclothed men, with their faces turned to the god, coming towards him with supplicating hands, as if for the gift of fire. The Pentelican marble of this temple was now toned down by the weather to a delicate gray hue, which contrasted charmingly with the red staircase, the dark laurels, and the faint green of the foliage which clothed the mountain at the back of the building. “Justinian never built this!” cried Maurice, transfixed in amazement at the suave beauty of the whole building; “no architects of to-day could have designed such perfection.” “No,” replied Crispin, as they ascended the steps; “only this staircase and the platform are modern, for the temple is an old Greek one, built in Heaven knows what year of Hellenic art, and Justinian, finding it in a ruinous condition, restored it as you see. The front was fortunately intact, but he has arranged the interior as a dwelling-house. It is a shrine to Vulcan, and, I presume, was built here because this island is volcanic in character, though indeed it is far away from the Hephæstiades.” “I do not wonder Justinian calls it the Acropolis, for it is a magnificent building, and worthy of the name. Oh, Crispin, look at that nude youth struggling with the rearing horse!” “You can look at all that another time,” replied the poet, laughing at the sculptor’s enthusiasm; “meanwhile, Justinian is waiting us.”