"Some follower of the Jew Paul; I know no other sect who would dare call the muse a myth."
"I would give something to know what the Jewish fellow did say; do you remember?" asked Pierus.
"I think I can summon some one who does." And Critias called aloud to a slave, who drew near.
"Merion, do you remember the Jew preacher?"
"I do, most honored master."
"Do you remember what he said?"
"I have his words by heart, master," replied the slave.
"By heart!" muttered Magas, "by Jove; but, you did worship the fellow!"
"Well," rejoined Critias, "and what did he say?"
The man addressed was a gray-headed, stolid-looking person; his intelligence on common matters was not deemed great; he was, however, esteemed faithful, trustworthy, and affectionate. A sudden glow lighted up his features, as his master spoke to him, and he became animated with an expression that puzzled his hearers: he stood forth, threw out his right arm, and, in the attitude of an orator impressed with the dignity and importance of the subject, delivered word for word the speech made by the great apostle of the Gentiles in the hall of the Areopagus.