5
Theagenes (our friend with the lungs) had got thus far, when I asked one of the bystanders what all this meant about ‘fire,’ and what Heracles and Empedocles had got to do with Proteus?—‘Proteus,’ he replied, ‘will shortly cremate himself, at the Olympic games.’—'But how,’ I asked, ‘and why?’ He did his best to explain, but the Cynic went on .awling, and it was quite out of the question to attend to anything else. I waited on to the end. It was one torrent of wild fanegyric on Proteus. The sage of Sinope, Antisthenes his master,—nay, Socrates himself—none of them were so much as to be compared with him. Zeus was invited to contend for the preeminence. Subsequently however it seemed advisable to leave the two on some sort of equality.
6
‘The world,’ he cried in conclusion, ‘has seen but two works of surpassing excellence, the Olympian Zeus, and—Proteus. The one we owe to the creative genius of Phidias; the other is Nature’s handiwork. And now, this godlike statue departs from among mankind; borne upon wings of fire, he seeks the heavens, and leaves us desolate.’ He had worked himself up into a state of perspiration over all this; and when it was over he was very absurd, and cried, and tore his hair,—taking care not to pull too hard; and was finally taken away by some compassionate Cynics, sobbing violently all the time.
