s maligned. Still, it seems to me that it is for you to speak, not for
me. I should know you for a philosopher, without such persistent silence;
and as for myself, I am not altogether bereft of curiosity, in spite of
my eighty years."

At this Philippus hastily rose and pacing the room while he spoke, or
pausing occasionally in front of the old man, he poured out with glowing
cheeks and eager gestures, the history of his hopes and sufferings--how
Paula had filled him with fresh confidence, and had invited him to her
rooms--only to show him her whole heart; she had been strongly moved,
surprised at herself, but unable and unwilling to conceal from him the
happiness that had come into her life. She had spoken to him, her best
friend, as a burthened soul pours itself out to a priest: had confessed
all that she had felt since the funeral of the deceased Mukaukas, and
said that she felt convinced now that Orion had come to a right mind
again after his great sin.

"And that there, was so much joy over him in heaven," interrupted
Horapollo, "that she really could not delay doing her cast-off lover the
honor of inviting his sympathy!"

"On the contrary. It was with the utmost effort that she uttered all her
heart prompted her to tell; she had nothing to look for from me but
mockery, warning, and reproach, and yet she opened her heart to me."

"But why? To what end?" shrieked the old man. "Shall I tell you. Because
a man who is a friend must still be half a lover, and a woman cannot bear
to give up even a quarter of one."

"Not so!" exclaimed Philippus, indignantly interrupting him. "It was
because she esteems and values me,--because she regards me as a brother,
and--I am not a vain man--and could not bear--those were her very
words--to cheat me of my affection for even an hour! It was noble, it was
generous, worthy of her! And though every fibre of my nature rebelled I
found myself compelled to admire her sincerity, her true friendship, her
disregard of her own feelings, and her womanly tenderness!--Nay, do not
interrupt me again, do not laugh at me. It is no small matter for a proud
girl, conscious of her own dignity, to lay bare her heart's weakness to a
man who, as she knows, loves her, as she did just now to me. She called
me her benefactor and said she would be a sister to me; and whatever
motive you--who hate her out of a habit of prejudice without really
knowing her--may choose to ascribe her conduct to, I--I believe