on which the crops they bore should be threshed
out. The villages and palm-groves were shrouded in shimmering mist,
quivering heat, and dazzling yellow light; and the passer-by on the
raised dykes of the shore bent his head as he dragged his weary feet
through the deep dust.

The sun blazed pitilessly in the cloudless sky, down on land and river,
and on the fugitive nuns who had spread their white head-cloths above
them for an awning and sat in dull lethargy, awaiting what might he
before them.

The water-jar passed from hand to band; but the more they drank the more
acute was their discomfort, and their longing for some other refreshment.
At meal time the dishes were returned to the tiny cabin almost untouched.
The abbess and Rufinus tried to speak comfort to them; but in the
afternoon the superior herself was overpowered by the heat, and the air
in the little cabin, to which she retired, was even less tolerable stuffy
than on deck.

Thus passed a long day of torment, the hottest that even the men could
remember; and they on the whole suffered least from it, though they
toiled at the oar without ceasing and with wonderful endurance.

At length evening fell after those fearful midday hours; and as a cool
breeze rose shortly before sunset to fan their moist brows, the hapless
victims awoke to new energies. Their immediate torment had so crushed
them that, incapable of anticipating the future, they had ceased either
to fear or to hope; but now they could rejoice in thinking of the start
they had gained over their pursuers. They were hungry and enjoyed their
evening meal; the abbess made friends with the worthy ship-wright, and
began an eager conversation with Rufinus as to Paula and Orion: Her wish
that the young man should spend a time of probation did not at all please
Rufinus; with such a wife as Paula, he could not fail to be at all times
the noble fellow which his old friend held him to be in spite of his
having remained at home.

The hump-backed gardener made the younger nuns merry with his jests, and
after supper they all united in prayer.

Even the oarsmen had found new vigor and new life; and it was well that
few of the Greek sisters understood Egyptian, for the more jovial of them
started a song in praise of the charms of the maids they loved, which was
not composed for women's ears.

The nuns chatted of those they had left behind, and many a one spoke of a
happy meeting at home once more; but an elderly