The sublime solitude of the tenantless building was outraged and invaded in an instant.

Statues were broken, gold was carried off, doors were splintered into fragments; but here for a while the progress of demolition was delayed.

Those to whom the labour of ruining the outward structure had been confided were less successful than their neighbours who had pillaged its contents.

The ponderous stones of the pillars, the massive surfaces of the walls, resisted the most vigorous of their puny efforts, and forced them to remain contented with mutilating that which they could not destroy--with tearing off roofs, defacing marbles, and demolishing capitals.

The rest of the buildings remained uninjured, and grander even now in the wildness of ruin than ever it had been in the stateliness of perfection and strength.
But the most important achievement still remained, the death-wound of Paganism was yet to be struck--the idol Serapis, which had ruled the hearts of millions, and was renowned in the remotest corners of the Empire, was to be destroyed! A breathless silence pervaded the Christian ranks as they filled the hall of the god.