judge for themselves. But in another instant he had spurned
from him the poor deluded maiden, whose idolatrous ecstasies he saw
instantly were not meant for himself, and rushed desperately across the
room, looking for an outlet.

He found a door in the darkness--a room-a window--and in another moment
he had leapt twenty feet into the street, rolled over, bruised and
bleeding, rose again like an Antaeus, with new strength, and darted off
towards the archbishop's house.

And poor Hypatia lay half senseless on the floor, with the Jewess
watching her bitter tears--not merely of disappointment, but of utter
shame. For as Philammon fled she had recognised those well-known
features; and the veil was lifted from her eyes, and the hope and the
self-respect of Theon's daughter were gone for ever.

Her righteous wrath was too deep for upbraidings. Slowly she rose;
returned into the inner room; wrapped her cloak deliberately around her;
and went silently away, with one look at the Jewess of solemn scorn and
defiance.

'Ah! I can afford a few sulky looks to-night!' said the old woman to
herself, with a smile, as she picked up from the floor the prize for
which she had been plotting so long--Raphael's half of the black agate.

'I wonder whether she will miss it! Perhaps she will have no fancy for
its company any longer, now that she has discovered what over-palpable
archangels appear when she rubs it. But if she does try to recover
it.... why--let her try her strength with mine--or, rather, with a
Christian mob.'

And then, drawing from her bosom the other half of the talisman, she
fitted the two pieces together again and again, fingering them over, and
poring upon them with tear-brimming eyes, till she had satisfied herself
that the fracture still fitted exactly; while she murmured to herself
from time to time--'Oh, that he were here! Oh, that he would return
now--now! It may be too late to-morrow! Stay--I will go and consult the
teraph; it may know where he is....'

And she departed to her incantations; while Hypatia threw herself upon
her bed at home, and filled the chamber with a long, low wailing, as
of a child in pain, until the dreary dawn broke on her shame and her
despair. And then she rose, and rousing herself for one great effort,
calmly prepared a last oration, in which she intended to bid farewell
for ever to Alexandria and to the schools.

Philammon meanwhile was striding desperately up the main street which
l