gnation through her mind, and reminded her that after
all there was no harm in allowing lower natures to develop themselves
freely in that direction which Nature had appointed for them, and in
which only they could fulfil the laws of their being, as necessary
varieties in the manifold whole of the universe. So she cut the
interview short with--

'If it must be, then.... I will now retire, and write the ode. Only, I
refuse to have any communication whatsoever with--I am ashamed of even
mentioning her name. I will send the ode to you, and she must adapt her
dance to it as best she can. By her taste, or fancy rather, I will not
be ruled.'

'And I,' said Orestes, with a profusion of thanks, 'will retire to rack
my faculties over the "dispositions." On this day week we exhibit--and
conquer! Farewell, queen of wisdom! Your philosophy never shows to
better advantage than when you thus wisely and gracefully subordinate
that which is beautiful in itself to that which is beautiful relatively
and practically.'

He departed; and Hypatia, half dreading her own thoughts, sat down at
once to labour at the ode. Certainly it was a magnificent subject. What
etymologies, cosmogonies, allegories, myths, symbolisms, between all
heaven and earth, might she not introduce--if she could but banish that
figure of Pelagia dancing to it all, which would not be banished, but
hovered, like a spectre, in the background of all her imaginations. She
became quite angry, first with Pelagia, then with herself, for being
weak enough to think of her. Was it not positive defilement of her mind
to be haunted by the image of so defiled a being? She would purify her
thoughts by prayer and meditation. But to whom of all the gods should
she address herself? To her chosen favourite, Athene? She who had
promised to be present at that spectacle? Oh, how weak she had been to
yield! And yet she had been snared into it. Snared--there was no doubt
of it--by the very man whom she had fancied that she could guide and
mould to her own purposes. He had guided and moulded her now against her
self-respect, her compassion, her innate sense of right. Already she
was his tool. True, she had submitted to be so for a great purpose. But
suppose she had to submit again hereafter--always henceforth? And what
made the thought more poignant was, her knowledge that he was right;
that he knew what to do, and how to do it. She could not help admiring
him for his address, his quickness,