ad fetched in the graceful
jar--which was another gift from her hospitable friend--she went up to
Paulus and greeted him kindly. He looked up from his work, thanked her,
and a few minutes later, when she came out of the cave again, asked her,
"How is the poor little creature?"

Sirona shrugged her shoulders, and said sadly, "She has drunk nothing,
and does not even know me, and pants as rapidly as last evening--if I
were to lose the poor little beast!--"

She could say no more for emotion, but Paulus shook his head.

"It is sinful," he said, "to grieve so for a beast devoid of reason."

"Iambe is not devoid of reason," replied Sirona. "And even if she were,
what have I left if she dies? She grew up in my father's house, where all
loved me; I had her first when she was only a few days old, and I brought
her up on milk on a little bit of sponge. Many a time, when I heard the
little thing whining for food, have I got out of bed at night with bare
feet; and so she came to cling to me like a child, and could not do
without me. No one can know how another feels about such things. My
father used to tell us of a spider that beautified the life of a
prisoner, and what is a dirty dumb creature like that to my clever,
graceful little dog! I have lost my home, and here every one believes the
worst of me, although I have done no one any harm, and no one, no one
loves me but Iambe."

"But I know of one who loves every one with a divine and equal love,"
interrupted Paulus.

"I do not care for such a one," answered Sirona. "Iambe follows no one
but me; what good can a love do me that I must share with all the world!
But you mean the crucified God of the Christians? He is good and pitiful,
so says Dame Dorothea; but he is dead--I cannot see him, nor hear him,
and, certainly, I cannot long for one who only shows me grace. I want one
to whom I can count for something, and to whose life and happiness I am
indispensable."

A scarcely perceptible shudder thrilled through the Alexandrian as she
spoke these words, and he thought, as he glanced at her face and figure
with a mingled expression of regret and admiration, "Satan, before he
fell, was the fairest among the pure spirits, and he still has power over
this woman. She is still far from being ripe for salvation, and yet she
has a gentle heart, and even if she has erred, she is not lost."

Sirona's eyes had met his, and she said with a sigh, "You look at me so
compassionately--if o