s
free; the Nile has had his victim!"

But almost before he had done speaking--before the people could proclaim
their vote--Horapollo had rushed at him and interrupted him. He had
dismounted from his ass during the earlier part of the proceedings, and,
not to let his prey escape, he now came between Paula and the bishop,
grasped her dress and cried to the chorus of youths:

"Come on--at once! One of you take the part of the Nile-God--into the
river with the Bride!" The bishop however forced himself between the
speaker and the girl to protect her. But Horapollo flew into a fury and
rushed at the prelate to snatch away the image of the Saviour, while
John exclaimed in a voice of ominous thunder: "Anathema!"

This word of fear roused the Christian blood in the Egyptians; the
sacrilegious attempt stirred the zeal which they had proved in many a
struggle, and which had only been kept under by an effort during these
times of trouble: the leader of the choir dragged the old man away and
took part with the bishop. Others followed his example, while several,
on the contrary, sided with old Horapollo who clung tightly to Paula,
preferring to die himself rather than allow her to escape his hatred and
vengeance.

At this moment the clang of bells was heard from the town with a
terrific and unaccountable uproar, and a young man was seen forcing his
way through the throng, a naked sword in his hand, and in spite of his
torn garments, his wild hair, and his blackened face, he was at once
recognized as Orion. Every one made way for him, for he rushed on like a
madman; as he reached the pontoon and took in at a glance what was
going forward there, he sprang past the mummers with mighty leaps to the
platform, pushing aside sundry groups of fighting champions; and before
the principal actors were aware of his presence, he had snatched Paula
from the old man's clutch, and called her by her name. She sank on his
breast half-fainting with terror, surprise and unspeakable rapture, and
he clasped her to him with his left arm, while the flashing sword in his
right hand and his flaming looks warned all bystanders that it would
be as wise to attack a lioness defending her young as to defy this
desperate man, who was prepared to face death with the woman he loved.

His push had sent Horapollo tottering to some distance; and when the
old man had pulled himself together, to throw himself once more on
his victim, he found himself the centre of a