brought herself back to the consciousness that she had come out and
faced danger and endured terror, solely and exclusively for Irene's
sake. The image of her sister rose clearly before her mind in all its
bright charm, undimmed by any jealous grudge which, indeed, ever
since her passion had held her in its toils had never for the smallest
fraction of a minute possessed her.

Irene had grown up under her eye, sheltered by her care, in the sunshine
of her love. To take care of her, to deny herself, and bear the severest
fatigue for her had been her pleasure; and now as she appealed to her
father--as she wont to do--as if he were present, and asked him in an
inaudible cry: "Tell me, have I not done all for her that I could do?"
and said to herself that he could not possibly answer her appeal but
with assent, her eyes filled with tears; the bitterness and discontent
which had lately filled her breast gradually disappeared, and a gentle,
calm, refreshing sense of satisfaction came over her spirit, like a
cooling breeze after a scorching day.

As she now again stood still, straining her eyes which were growing more
accustomed to the darkness, to discover one of the temples at the end
of the alley of sphinxes, suddenly and unexpectedly at her right hand a
solemn and many-voiced hymn of lamentation fell upon her ear. This was
from the priests of Osiris-Apis who were performing the sacred mysteries
of their god, at midnight, on the roof of the temple. She knew the hymn
well--a lament for the deceased Osiris which implored him with urgent
supplication to break the power of death, to rise again, to bestow new
light and new vitality on the world and on men, and to vouchsafe to all
the departed a new existence.

The pious lament had a powerful effect on her excited spirit. Her
parents too perhaps had passed through death, and were now taking part
in the conduct of the destiny of the world and of men in union with the
life giving God. Her breath came fast, she threw up her arms, and, for
the first time since in her wrath she had turned her back on the holy
of holies in the temple of Serapis, she poured forth her whole soul with
passionate fervor in a deep and silent prayer for strength to fulfil her
duty to the end,--for some sign to show her the way to save Irene from
misfortune, and Publius from death. And as she prayed she felt no
longer alone--no, it seemed to her that she stood face to face with
the invincible Power which p