Everyone recognized the beautiful hetaira as Aphrodite, and she was hailed, as with one voice, the Queen of the World.

The men rushed forward to pour libations in her honor, and to join hands and dance in a giddy maze round her car.
"Take her to Serapis!" shouted a drunken student.

"Marry her to the god.
Heavenly Love should be his bride!" "Yes--take her to Serapis," yelled another.

"It is the wedding of Serapis and Glycera." The crazy rabble pushed the machine towards the curtain, with the beautiful, laughing woman on the top, and her bevy of languishing attendants.
Until this instant the vivid lightning outside, and the growling of distant thunder had not been heeded by the revellers, but now a blinding flash lighted up the hall and, at the same instant, a tremendous peal crashed and rattled just above them, and shook the desecrated shrine.
A sulphurous vapor came rolling in at the openings just below the roof, and this first flash was immediately followed by another which seemed to have rent the vault of heaven, for it was accompanied by a deafening and stunning roar and a terrific rumbling and creaking, as though the metal walls of the firmament had burst asunder and fallen in on the earth--on Alexandria--on the Serapeum.
The whole awful force of an African tempest came crashing down upon them; the wild revel was stilled; the trembling topers dropped their cups, fevered checks turned pale, the dancers parted and threw up their hands in agonized supplication, words of lust and blasphemy died on their lips and turned to prayers and muttered charms.

The terrified nymphs that surrounded Venus sprang from the car, and the foam-born goddess in the shell tried to free herself from the garlands and gauzes in which she was involved, shrieking aloud when she perceived that she could not descend unaided from her elevated position.