apon
would not that have been in Benjamin's hand. It was with the deepest pity
that he thought of that poor, grief-stricken woman, and the idea flashed
through his mind that the patriarch might have gone back to his mother to
accuse him and to urge her to further revelations.

Many minutes had passed since the patriarch had left him; Orion had
allowed his illustrious guest to depart unescorted, and this could not
fail to excite surprise. Such a breach of good manners, of the uncodified
laws of society, struck Orion, the son of a noble and ancient house, who
had drunk in his regard for them as it were with his mother's milk, as an
indignity to himself; and to repair it he started up, hastily smoothing
down his tumbled hair, and hurried into the viridarium. His fears were
confirmed, for the patriarch's following were standing in the
fountain-hall close to the exit; his mother, too, was there and Benjamin
was in the act of departure.

The old man accepted his offered escort with dignified affability, as if
nothing but what was pleasant had passed between him and Orion. As they
crossed the viridarium he asked his young host what was the name of some
rare flower, and counselled him to take care that shade-giving trees were
planted in abundance on his various estates. In the outer hall, on either
side of the door, was a statue: Truth and justice, two fine works by
Aristeas of Alexandria, who flourished in the time of the Emperor
Hadrian. Justice held the scales and sword, Truth was gazing into her
mirror. As the patriarch approached them, he said to the priest who
walked by his side: "Still here!" Then, standing still, he said, partly
to Orion and partly to his companion:

"Your father, I see, neglected my suggestion that these heathen images
had no place in any Christian house, and least of all in one attached, as
this is, to a public function. We, no doubt, know the meaning of the
symbols they bear; but how easily might the ordinary man, waiting here,
mistake the figure with the mirror for Vanity and that with the scales
Venality: 'Pay us what we ask,' she might be saying, 'or else your life
is a forfeit,'--so the sword would imply."

He smiled and walked on, but added airily to Orion:

"When I come again--you know--I shall be pleased if my eye is no longer
offended by these mementos of an extinct idolatry."

"Truth and justice!" replied Orion in a constrained voice. "They have
dwelt on this spot and ruled in this hou