Fabionites, gluttonous Carpocratians, debauched Barbelonites stood up, preaching such follies that hearers possessing a vestige of morality put their fingers in their ears. Many strove to move their audiences by the attractive force over the imagination possessed by madness and monstrosity. Every man was certain of his own gospel. Yet all were enemies. Even the minute sect, hidden in remote provinces of Africa, the Rogationists, were certain that Christ returning upon earth would find the true comprehension of the Gospel only amongst themselves, in a few Mauritanian villages, and nowhere else.
Evander of Nicomedia, forgetting Juventinus, could scarcely scribble down the new heresies on his tablets fast enough, happy as a collector who has lit upon a new set of trinkets.
And meantime, in the upper gallery, the young Emperor, surrounded by his white-robed philosophic friends, was gazing down upon the maddened tumult with malign satisfaction. The Pythagorean Proclus, Nymphidian, Priscus, Ædesius, old Iamblicus, the pious bishop Hekobolis, were at his side. They neither laughed nor jested. Their faces remained almost impassive and their attitude a becoming one; only from time to time across their closed lips flitted a furtive and pitying smile. From the shadow of the purple hangings they looked down on the spectacle, as gods must regard the hostilities of men, or circus-lovers the beasts of the arena. It was indeed a banquet for Hellenic sages.
In the midst of the general confusion the effeminate young Caïnite leapt on the tribune and shouted, with such conviction in his voice that everybody turned round, overwhelmed at the impiety—
"Blessed be rebels against God! Blessed be Cain, Shem, Judas, the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah! Blessed be their brother, the Angel of Infinite Darkness!"
The bishop Purpuris, who for an hour past had not been able to get a hearing, to relieve his feelings rushed at the Caïnite and raised his sinewy hand to close the lips of the blasphemer.
A crowd dragged him back.
"Father, it is unbecoming!"
"Let me be, let me be! I will not endure such abomination," roared Purpuris; "take this, seed of Cain!"
And the bishop spat in his face.