“Friends, let each take his place! Slaves, pour out the honeyed wine!”
Then, the host raising his cup—
“Let us first drink to the divine Constantine and the genius of the empire. The country should be put first of all, even above the gods, for it contains them all.”
All the guests raised their full cups to their lips. Paphnutius alone did not drink, because Constantine had persecuted the Nicaean faith, and because the country of the Christian is not of this world.
Dorion, having drunk, murmured—
“What is one’s country? A flowing river. The shores change, and the waves are incessantly renewed.”
“I know, Dorion,” replied the Prefect of the Fleet, “that you care little for the civic virtues, and you think that the sage ought to hold himself aloof from all affairs. I think, on the contrary, that an honest man should desire nothing better than to fill a responsible post in the State. The State is a noble thing.”
Hermodorus, the High Priest of Serapis, spoke next—
“Dorion has asked, ‘What is one’s country?’ I will reply that the altars of the gods and the tombs of ancestors make one’s country. A man is a fellow-citizen by association of memories and hopes.”
Young Aristobulus interrupted Hermodorus.