Friend."

He penned the lines rapidly; and as he did so he felt, he knew not why,
an excited thrill, as though every word he threw off was a blow aimed at
Paula. Last night he had intended to send the costly jewel to the
handsome widow in a suitable setting; but now it would be madly imprudent
to order such a thing. He must send it away at once; he had hastened to
pack it up with the verses, with his own hand, and entrusted it to
Chusar, a horsedealer's groom from Constantinople, who had brought his
Pannonian steeds to Memphis. He had himself seen off this trustworthy
messenger, who could speak no Egyptian and very little Greek, and when
his horse was lost to sight in the dust of the road leading to Alexandria
he had returned home in a calmer mood. Ships were constantly putting to
sea from that port for Constantinople, and Chusar was enjoined to sail by
the first that should be leaving. At least the odious deed should not
have been committed in vain; and yet he would have given a year of his
life if now he could but know that it had never been done.

"Impossible!" and "Curse it!" were the words he had most frequently
repeated in the course of his retrospect during the past night and
morning. How he had had to rush and hurry under the broiling sun! and the
sense of being compelled to do so for mere concealment's sake seemed to
him--who had never in his life before done anything that he could not
justify in the eyes of honest men--so humiliating, that it brought the
sweat to his burning brow. He--Orion--to dread discovery as a thief! It
was inconceivable, and he was afraid, positively afraid for the first
time since his boyhood. His fortunate star, which in the Capital had
shone on him so brightly and benevolently, seemed to have proved
faithless in this ruinous hole! What had that Persian girl taken into her
crazy head that she must rush upon him like some furious beast of prey?
He had been bound to her once, no doubt, by a transient passion--and what
youth of his age was blind to the charms of a pretty slave-girl? She had
been a lovely child, and it was a vexation, nay a grief to him, that she
should have been so shamefully punished. If she should recover, and he
could have prayed that she might, it would of course be his part to
provide for her--of course. To be just, he could not but confess that she
indeed had good reason to hate him: but Paula? He had shown her nothing
but kindness and yet how unhesita