tingly, how openly she had displayed her
enmity. He could see her now with the name "murderer" on her quivering
lips; the word had stung him like a lance-thrust. What a hideous,
degrading and unjust accusation lay in that exclamation! Should he submit
to it unrevenged?

Was she as innocent as she was haughty and cold? What was she doing in
the viridarium at midnight?--For she must have been there before that
ill-starred dog flew at Mandane. An assignation with the owner of the
shoes his mother had found was out of the question, for they belonged to
some man about the stables. Love, thought he, for a wonder had nothing to
do with it; but as he came in he had noticed a man crossing the
court-yard who looked like Paula's freedman, Hiram the trainer. Probably
she had arranged a meeting with her stammering friend in order--in
order?--Well, there was but one thing that seemed likely: She was
plotting to fly from his parents' house and needed this man's assistance.

He had seen within a few hours of his return that his mother did not make
life sweet to the girl, and yet his father had very possibly opposed her
wish to seek another home. But why should she avoid and hate him? In that
expedition on the river and on their way home he could have sworn that
she loved him, and the remembrance of those hours brought her near to him
again, and wiped out his schemes of vengeance against her, of punishment
to be visited on her. Then he thought of little Katharina whom his mother
intended him to marry, and at the thought he laughed softly to himself.
In the Imperial gardens at Constantinople he had once seen a strange
Indian bird, with a tiny body and head and an immensely long tail,
shining like silver and mother of pearl. This was Katharina! She herself
a mere nothing; but then her tail! vast estates and immense sums of
money; and this--this was all his mother saw. But did he need more than
he had? How rich his father must be to spend so large a sum on an
offering to the Church as heedlessly as men give alms to a beggar.

Katharina--and Paula!

Yes, the little girl was a bright, brisk creature; but then Thomas'
daughter--what power there was in her eye, what majesty in her gait,
how--how--how enchanting her--her voice could be--her voice. . . .

He was asleep, worn out by heat and fatigue; and in a dream he saw Paula
lying on a couch strewn with roses while all about her sounded wonderful
heart-ensnaring music; and the couch was no