“Plotinus,” said the Epicurean, “consider well ere, as is the manner of Platonists, thou committest thyself to a proposition of a transparently foolish nature. Thou desirest to gather all sorts of philosophers around thee, but to what end, if they are restrained from manifesting their characteristic tenets? Thou mightest as well seek to illustrate the habits of animals by establishing a menagerie in which panthers should eat grass, and antelopes be dieted on rabbits. An Epicurean without his female companion, unless by his own choice, is no more an Epicurean than a Cynic is a Cynic without his rags and his impudence. Wilt thou take from me my Pannychis, an object pleasing to the eye, and leave yonder fellow his tatters and his vermin?”
The apartment had gradually filled with philosophers, and Hermon was pointing to a follower of Diogenes whose robe so fully bespoke his obedience to his master’s precepts that his skin seemed almost clean in comparison.
“Consider also,” continued the Epicurean, “that thou art thyself by no means exempt from scandal.”
“What does the man mean?” demanded Plotinus, turning to Porphyry.
“Get them away,” whispered the disciple, “and I will tell thee.”
Plotinus hastily conceded the point raised with reference to the interesting Pannychis, and the philosophers went off to effect their exchange of quarters. As soon as the room was clear, he repeated:
“What does the man mean?”
“I suppose he is thinking of Leaena,” said Porphyry.
“The most notorious character in Rome, who, finding her charms on the wane, has lately betaken herself to philosophy?”
“The same.”