coiled up like a snake on a divan writing busily in a tablet
upon her knees while on the cushions beside her glittered splendid
jewels, which she had been fingering over as a child might its toys.
She did not look up for a few minutes; and Philammon could not help, in
spite of his impatience, looking round the little room and contrasting
its dirty splendour, and heavy odour of wine, and food, and perfumes,
with the sunny grace and cleanliness of Greek houses. Against the
wall stood presses and chests fretted with fantastic Oriental carving;
illuminated rolls of parchment lay in heaps in a corner; a lamp of
strange form hung from the ceiling, and shed a dim and lurid light
upon an object which chilled the youth's blood for a moment--a bracket
against the wall, on which, in a plate of gold, engraven with mystic
signs, stood the mummy of an infant's head; one of those teraphim, from
which, as Philammon knew, the sorcerers of the East professed to evoke
oracular responses.

At last she looked up, and spoke in a shrill, harsh voice. 'Well, my
fair boy, and what do you want with the poor old proscribed Jewess? Have
you coveted yet any of the pretty things which she has had the wit to
make her slave-demons save from the Christian robbers?'

Philammon's tale was soon told. The old woman listened, watching him
intently with her burning eye; and then answered slowly--

'Well, and what if you are a slave?'

'Am I one, then? Am I?'

'Of course you are. Arsenius spoke truth. I saw him buy you at Ravenna,
just fifteen years ago. I bought your sister at the same time. She is
two-and-twenty now. You were four years younger than her, I should say.'

'Oh heavens! and you know my sister still! Is she Pelagia?'

'You were a pretty boy,' went on the hag, apparently not hearing him.
'If I had thought you were going to grow up as beautiful and as
clever as you are, I would have bought you myself. The Goths were
just marching, and Arsenius gave only eighteen gold pieces for you--or
twenty--I am growing old, and forget everything, I think. But there
would have been the expense of your education, and your sister cost me
in training--oh what sums? Not that she was not worth the money--no, no,
the darling!'

'And you know where she is? Oh tell me--in the name of mercy tell me!'

'Why, then?'

'Why, then? Have you not the heart of a human being in you? Is she not
my sister?'

'Well? You have done very well for fifteen years without yo