d in, and then pushed Orion forward,
saying hastily: "There--do you see--there it is!"

By the window stood Heliodora. The bright radiance of the sinking sun
bathed her slender but round and graceful form, her "imploring" eyes
looked up at him with rapturous delight, and her white arms folded
across her bosom gave her the aspect of a saint, waiting with humble
longing for some miracle, in expectation of unutterable joys.

Martina's eyes, too, were fixed on Orion; she saw how pale he turned at
seeing the young widow, she saw him start as though suddenly overcome by
some emotion--what, she could not guess--and shrink back from the sunlit
vision in the window. These were effects which the worthy matron had not
anticipated.

Never off the stage, thought she, had she seen a man so stricken by
love; for she could not suspect that to him it was as though a gulf had
suddenly yawned at his feet.

With a swiftness which no one could have looked for from her heavy and
bulky figure, Martina hastily returned to her husband, and even at the
door exclaimed: "It is all right, all has gone well! At the sight of her
he seemed thunderstruck! Mark my words: we shall have a wedding here by
the Nile."

"My blessing on it," replied Justinus. "But, wedding or no wedding, all
I care is that she should persuade that fine young fellow to give up
his crazy scheme. I saw how even the brown rascals in the Arab's service
bowed down before him; and he will persuade the general, if any one can,
to do all in his power for Narses. He must not and shall not go! You
impressed it strongly on Heliodora...."

"That she should keep him?" laughed the matron. "I tell you, she will
nail him down if need be."

"So much the better," replied her husband. "But, wife, folks might say
that it was not quite seemly in you to force them together. Properly
speaking, you are as it were her female mentor, the motherly patroness."

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed Martina. "At home they invited no witnesses
to look on at their meetings. The poor love-lorn souls must at any rate
have a chance of speaking to each other and rejoicing that they have
met once more. I will step in presently, and be the anxious, motherly
friend. Tine, Tine! And if it does not end in a wedding, I will make a
pilgrimage to St. Agatha, barefoot."

"And I with only one shoe!" the senator declared, "for, everything in
reason--but the talk about Dora was at last beyond all bounds. It was no
longer pos