The winds fold their wings among the hills and the echoes slip back into the valleys with their memories of boys and girls with their flowering garlands, incense bearers, priests and priestesses of long ago who used to march through the city and climb the hill to the Temple in the month of Artemision; and the cross over the gateway that we see in the distance, and the peal of the Gloria from the churches remind us that this is a modern and Christian Ephesos through which we are wandering at Eastertide in the year 410. From the market-place we have passed to the stadion where the young athletes of the place are practising for the games that will be held later on, and now our steps have brought us beyond city bounds in the direction of Kóressos. Here we find that, although it is a holiday, gangs of slaves directed by an overseer are busily quarrying the grey marble for which this mountain is famed. Mingling with the bystanders we pause to watch them as they tear down a pile of loose, large stones that seem at some time to have been stacked up against what looks like a solid wall of masonry. As the sun is high and we are wearied with our climb we join a group sitting in the shadow of a plane tree, enjoying the view, listening to the distant chimes and the anthems of praise from the churches. Meanwhile our attention is arrested by the talk that goes on about us.
The Overseer.
[As a huge block rolls down.]
Good! Still a few such blocks, and lo! fulfilled
My contract!
A Priest.
[Passing, pauses.]
Working! Through what greed of gain
Profane you thus the holy festival
Of Eastertide?