As Orion rode across the bridge of boats to Fostat, the gladness that had
inspired him died away. Could not--ought not Paula to have spared him a
small part of the time she had devoted to the child? He had been left to
make the most of a kind grasp of the hand and a grateful look of welcome.
Would she not have flown to meet him, if the love of which she had
assured him yesterday were as fervent, as ardent as his own? Was the
proud spirit of this girl, who, as his mother said, was cold and
unapproachable, incapable of passionate, self-forgetting devotion? Was
there no way of lighting up in her the sacred fire which burnt in him?
He was tormented by many doubts and a bitter feeling of disappointment,
and a crowd of suspicions forced themselves upon him, which would never
have troubled him if only he had seen her once more, had heard her happy
words of love, and felt his lips consecrated by his mistress' first kiss.
He was out of spirits, indeed out of temper, as he entered the Arab
general's dwelling. In the anteroom he was met by rejected petitioners,
and he said to himself, with a bitter smile, that he had just been sent
about his business in the same unsatisfied mood--yes, sent about his
business--and by whom?
He was announced, and his spirits rose a little when he was at once
admitted and led past many, who were left waiting, into the Arab
governor's presence-chamber. He was received with paternal warmth; and,
when Amru heard that Orion and the patriarch had come to high words, he
jumped up and holding out both his hands exclaimed:
"My right hand on that, my friend; come over to Islam, and with my left I
will appoint you your father's successor, in the Khaliff's name, in spite
of your youth. Away with hesitation! Clasp hands; at once, quickly! I
cannot bear to quit Egypt and know that there is no governor at Memphis!"
The blood tingled in the young man's veins. His father's successor!
He, the new Mukaukas! How it flattered his ambition, what a way to all
activity it opened out to him! It dazzled his vision, and moved him
strongly to grasp the right hand which his generous patron still held out
to him. But suddenly his excited fancy showed him the image of the
Redeemer with whom he had entered into a silent covenant in the church,
sadly averting his gentle face. At this he remembered what he had vowed;
at this he forgot all his grievance against Paula; he took the general's
hand, indeed, but only to raise it to his lips as he thanked him with all
his heart. But then he implored him, with earnest, pleading urgency, not
to be wroth with him if he remained firm and clung to the faith of his
father and his ancestors. And Amru was not wroth, though it was with
none of the hearty interest with which he had at first welcomed him, that
he hastily warned Orion to be on his guard against the prelate, since, so
long as he remained a Christian, he had no power to protect him against
Benjamin.
When Orion went on to tell him that he was intending to travel for a
short time, and had, in fact, come to take leave of him, the Arab was
much annoyed. He, too, he said, must be going away and was starting
within two days for Medina.
"And in casting my eye on you," he went on, "in spite of your youth, to
fill your father's place, I took care to find a task for you which would
enable you to prove that I had not put too great confidence in you. But,
if you persist in your own opinions, I cannot possibly entrust so
important a post as the governorship of Memphis to a Christian so young
as you are; with the youthful Moslem I might have ventured on it.--
However, I will not deprive you of the enterprise which I had intended
for you. If you succeed in it, it will be a good thing for yourself, and
I can, I believe, turn it to the benefit of the whole province--for what
could take me from hence at this time, when my presence is so needful for
a hundred incomplete projects, but my anxiety for the good of this
country--in which I am but an alien, while you must love it as your
native soil, the home of your race?--I am going to Medina because the
Khaliff, in this letter, complains that I send too small a revenue into
the treasury from so rich a land as Egypt. And yet not a single dinar of
your taxes finds its way into my own coffers. I keep a hundred and fifty
thousand laborers at work to restore the canals and waterworks which my
predecessors, the blood-sucking Byzantines, neglected so disgracefully
and left to fall to ruin--I build, and plan, and sow seed for posterity
to reap. All this costs money. It swallows up the lion's share of the
revenue. And I am making the journey, not merely to purge myself from
reproach, but to obtain Omar's permission for the future to exact no
extortionate payments, but to consider only the true weal of the
province. I am most unwilling to go, for a thousand reasons; and you,
young man, if you care for your native land, ought .... Do you really
love it and wish it well?"
"With all my soul!" cried Orion.
"Well then, at this time, if by any possibility you can arrange it so,
you ought to remain at home, and devote yourself heart and soul to the
task I have to propose to you. I hate postponements. Ride straight at
the foe, and do not canter up and down till you tire the horses! that is
my principle, and not in battle only. Take the moral to heart!--And you
will have no time to waste; what I require is no light matter: It is that
you should endeavor to sketch a new division of the districts, drawing on
your own knowledge of the country and its inhabitants, and using the
records and lists in the archives of your ancient government-offices,
of which your father has told me; you must have special regard to the
financial condition of each district. That the old mode of levying taxes
is unsatisfactory we find every day; you will have ample room for
improvements in every respect. Overthrow the existing arrangements, if
you consider it necessary. Other men have attempted to redistribute the
divisions and devise new modes of collecting the revenue. The best
scheme will have the preference; and you seem to me to be the man to win
the prize, and, with it, a wide and noble field of work in the future.
It is not a mere sense of tedium, or a longing for the pleasures of the
capital to which you are accustomed, that are tempting you to quit
Memphis the melancholy. . . ."
"No, indeed, my Lord," Orion assured him. "The duty I have in view does
not even profit me, and if I had not given my word I would throw myself,
heart and soul, into so grand a task, no later than to-morrow. That you
should expect me to solve so hard a problem is the most precious incense
ever offered me. If it is only to be worthy of your confidence, I will
return as soon as possible and put forth my utmost powers of intelligence
and prudence, of endurance and patriotism. I have always been a diligent
student; and it would be a shame indeed, if my experiences as a youth
could hinder the man from outdoing the school-boy."
"That is right, well said!" replied Amru, holding out his hand.
"Do your best, and you shall have ample opportunity of proving your
powers.--Take my warnings to heart as regards the patriarch and the black
Vekeel. I unfortunately have no one who could fill his place except the
worthy Kadi Othman; but he is no soldier, and he cannot be spared from
his post. Keep out of Obada's way, return soon, and may the All-merciful
protect you. . ."
When Orion had recrossed the bridge on his way home, he saw a gaily-
dressed Nile-boat, such as now but rarely stopped at Memphis, lying at
anchor in the dock, and on the road he met two litters followed by beasts
of burden and a train of servants. The whole party had a brilliant and
wealthy appearance, and at any other time would have roused his
curiosity; but to-day he merely wondered for a moment who these new-
comers might be, and then continued to meditate on the task proposed to
him by Amru. From the bottom of his heart he cursed the hour in which he
had pledged himself to take the part of these strangers; for after such
long idleness he longed to be able to prove his powers. Suddenly, and as
if by a miracle, he saw the way opened before him which he had himself
hoped to tread, and now he was fettered and held back from an enterprise
which he felt he could carry out with success and benefit to his country,
while it attracted him as with a hundred lode-stones.
Next morning, when his will had been duly signed and witnessed, he called
the treasurer for an interview alone with him. He had made up his mind
that one person, at least, must be informed of the enterprise he had
planned, and that one could be no other than Nilus. So he begged him to
accompany him to the impluvium of his private residence; and several
office scribes who were present heard the invitation given. They did
not, however, allow themselves to be disturbed in their work; the
youngest only--a handsome lad of sixteen, an olive-complexioned Egyptian,
with keen, eager black eyes, who had listened sharply to every word
spoken by the treasurer and his master, quietly rose from his squatting
posture as soon as they had quitted the office, and, stole, unobserved
into the anteroom. From thence he flew up the ladder-like steps which
led to the dovecote of which he had the care, sprang on to the roof of
the lower story, and crept flat on his face till he was close to the edge
of the large square opening which gave light and air to the impluvium
below. With a swift movement of the hand he pushed back the awning which
shaded it at midday, and listened intently to the dialogue that went on
below.
This listener was Anubis, the water-wagtail's foster-brother; and he
seemed to be in no way behind his beloved mistress in the art of
listening; for no one could prick up his ears more sharply than Anubis.
He knew, too, what was to be his reward for exposing himself on a roof to
the shafts of the pitiless African sun, for Katharina, his adored play-
fellow and the mistress of his ardent boy's heart, had promised him a
sweet kiss, if only he would bring her back some more exact news as to
Orion's perilous journey. Anubis had told her, the evening before, all
he had heard in the anteroom to the office, but such general information
had not satisfied her. She must see clearly before her, must know
exactly what was going on, and she was not mistaken when she imagined
that the reward she had promised the lad would spur him to the utmost.
Anubis had not indeed expected to gain his end so soon, boldly as he
dared to hope; scarcely had he pushed aside the awning, when Orion began
to explain to Nilus all his plan and purpose.
When he had finished speaking, the boy did not wait to hear Nilus reply.
Intoxicated with his success, and the prospect of a guerdon which to him
included all the bliss of heaven, he crept back to the dovecote. But he
could not go back by the way by which he had come; for if one of the
older scribes should meet him in the anteroom, he would be condemned to
return to his work. He therefore wriggled along the ridge of the roof
towards the fishing-cove, got over it, and laid hold of a gutter pipe,
intending to slip down it; unfortunately it was old and rotten-rain was
rare in Memphis--and hardly had he trusted his body after his hands when
the lead gave way. The rash youth fell with the clattering fragments of
the gutter from a height of four men; a heavy thump on the pavement was
followed by a loud cry, and in a few minutes all the officials had heard
that poor Anubis, nimble as he was, had fallen from the roof while
attending to his pets, and had broken his leg.
The two men in the impluvium were not informed of the accident till some
time later, for strict orders had been given that they were not to be
disturbed.
Nilus had received his young master's communication with growing
amazement, indignation, and horror. When Orion ended, the treasurer put
forth all the eloquence of a faithful heart, anxious for the safety of
the body and soul of the youth he loved, to dissuade him from a deed of
daring which could bring him nothing but misapprehension, disaster, and
persecution. Nilus was with all his soul a Jacobite; and the idea that
his young master was about to risk everything for a party of Melchite
nuns, and draw down upon himself the wrath and maledictions of the
patriarch, was more than he could bear.
His faithful friend's warnings and entreaties did not leave Orion
unmoved; but he clung to his determination, representing to Nilus that he
had pledged his word to Rufinus, and could not now draw back, though he
had already lost all his pleasure in the enterprise. But it went against
him to leave the brave old man to face the danger alone--indeed, it was
out of the question.
Genuine anxiety is fertile in expedient; Orion had scarcely done
speaking, when Nilus had a proposal to make which seemed well calculated
to dispel the youth's last objections. Melampus, the chief shipbuilder,
was a Greek and a zealous Melchite, though he no longer dared to confess
his creed openly. He and his sons, two bold and sturdy ships carpenters,
had often given proof of their daring, and Nilus had no doubt that they
would be more than willing to share in an expedition which had for its
object the rescue of so many pious fellow-believers. They might take
Orion's place, and would be far more helpful to the old man than Orion
himself.
Orion so far approved of this suggestion as to promise himself good aid
from the brave artisans, who were well known to him; and he was willing
to take them with him, though he would not give up his own share in the
business.
Nilus, though he adhered firmly to his objections, was at last reduced to
silence. However, Orion went with his anxious friend to the ship-yard;
the old ship-builder, a kind-hearted giant, was as ready and glad to
undertake the rescue of the Sisters as if each one was his own mother.
It would be a real treat to the youngsters to have a hand in such a job,
--and he was right, for when they were taken into confidence one
flourished his hatchet with enthusiasm, and the tether struck his horny
fist against his left palm as gleefully as though he were bidden to a
dance.
Orion took boat at once with the three men, and was rowed to the house of
Rufinus, to whom he introduced them; the old man was entirely satisfied.
Orion remained with him after dismissing them. He had promised last
evening to breakfast with him, and the meal was waiting. Paula had gone,
about an hour since, to the convent, and Joanna expected her to return at
any moment. They began without her, however; the various dishes were
carried away, the meal was nearly ended-still she had not returned.
Orion, who had at first been able to conceal his disappointment, was now
so uneasy that his host could with difficulty extract brief and
inadvertent replies to his repeated questions. Rufinus himself was
anxious; but just as he rose to go in search of her, Pulcheria, who was
at the window, saw her coming, and joyfully exclaiming: "There she is!"
ran out.
But now again minute after minute passed, a quarter of an hour grew to
half an hour, and still Orion was waiting in vain. Glad expectation had
long since turned to impatience, impatience to a feeling of injured
dignity, and this to annoyance and bitter vexation, when at last
Pulcheria came back instead of Paula, and begged him from Paula
to join her in the garden.
She had been detained too long at the convent. The terrible rumor had
scared the pious sisters out of their wonted peace and put them all into
confusion, like smoke blown into a bee-hive. The first thing was to pack
their most valuable possessions; and although Orion had expressly said
only a small number of cases and bags could be taken on board, one was
for dragging her prayer-desk, another a large picture of some saint, a
third a copper fish-kettle, and the fourth, fifth, and sixth the great
reliquary with the bones of Ammonius the Martyr, to which the chapel owed
its reputation for peculiar sanctity. To reduce this excess of baggage,
the abbess had been obliged to exert all her energy and authority, and
many a sister retired weeping over some dear but too bulky treasure.
The superior had therefore been unable to devote herself to Paula till
this portable property had been under review. Then the damsel had been
admitted to her parlor, a room furnished with rich and elegant
simplicity, and there she had been allowed to pour out her whole heart
to warm and sympathetic ears.
Any one who could have seen these two together might have thought that
this was a daughter in grief seeking counsel on her mother's breast. In
her youth the grey-haired abbess must have been very like Thomas'
daughter; but the lofty and yet graceful mien of the younger woman had
changed in the matron to majestic and condescending dignity, and it was
impossible to guess from her defiantly set mouth that it had once been
the chief charm of her face.
As she listened to the girl's outpourings the expression of her calm eyes
changed frequently; when her soul was fired by fanatical zeal they could
gleam brightly; but now she was listening to a variety of experiences,
for Paula regarded this interview as a solemn confession, and concealed
nothing from the friend who was both mother and priest-neither of what
had happened to her in external circumstances, nor of what had moved her
heart and mind ever since she had first entered the house of the
Mtikaukas. Not a corner of her soul did she leave unsearched; she
neither concealed nor palliated anything; and when she described her
lover's strenuous efforts to apprehend the whole seriousness of life, her
love and enthusiasm fairly carried her away, making his image shine all
the more brightly by comparison with the brief, but dark shadow, that had
fallen upon it. When Paula had at last ended her confession, the
superior had remained silent for some time; then drawing the girl to her,
she had affectionately asked her:
"And now? Now, tell me truly, does not the passion that has such
wonderful power over you prompt and urge your inmost soul to yield--to fly
to the embrace of the man you love--to give all up for him and say: 'Here
I am--I am yours! Call a priest to bless our union!--Is it not so--am I
not right?'"
Paula, deeply blushing, bowed assent; but the old woman drew her head on
to her motherly bosom, and went on thoughtfully:
"I saw him drive past in his quadriga, and was reminded of many a noble
statue of the heathen Greeks. Beauty, rank, wealth, aye--and talents and
intellect--all that could ruin the heart of a Paula are his, and she--I
see it plainly--will give it to him gladly."
And again the maiden bowed her head. The abbess sighed, and went on as
though she had with difficulty succeeded in submitting to the inevitable
"Then all warning would be in vain.--Still, he is not of our confession,
he...."
"But how highly he esteems it!" cried Paula. "That he proves by
risking his freedom and life for you and your household."
"Say rather for you whom he loves," replied the other. "But putting that
out of the question, it pains me deeply to think of Thomas' daughter as
the wife of a Jacobite. You will not, I know, give him up; and the
Father of Love often leads true love to good ends by wonderful ways, even
though they are ways of error, passing through pitfalls and abysses."
Paula fell on her neck to kiss her gratefully: but the abbess could only
allow the girl a few minutes to enjoy her happiness. She desired her to
sit down by her side, and holding Paula's hand in both her own, she spoke
to her in a tone of calm deliberation. She and her sisterhood, she began
by saying, were deeply indebted to Orion. She had no dearer wish than
that Paula should find the greatest earthly happiness in her marriage;
still, it was her part to tender advice, and she dared not blind herself
to the dangers which threatened this happiness. She herself had a long
life behind her of varied experience, in which she had seen hundreds of
young men who had been given up as lost sinners by father and mother--
lost to the Church and to all goodness--and among these many a one, like
Saul, had had his journey to Damascus. A turning point had come to them,
and the outcast sons had become excellent and pious men.
Paula, as she listened, had drawn closer to the speaker, and her eyes
beamed with joy; but the elder woman shook her head, and her gaze grew
more devout and rapt, as she went on with deep solemnity:
"But then, my child, in all of these Grace had done its perfect work; the
miracle was accomplished which we term regeneration. They were still the
same men in the flesh and in the elements of their sensible nature, but
their relation to the world and to life was altogether new. All that
they had formerly thought desirable they could now hate; what they had
deemed important was now worthless, and the worthless precious in their
eyes; whereas they once referred everything to their own desires, they
now referred all to God and His will. Their impulses were the same as of
old, but they kept them within bounds by a never-sleeping consciousness
that they led, not to joys, but to everlasting punishment. These
regenerate souls learned to contemn the world, and instead of gazing down
at the dust their eyes were fixed upwards on Heaven. If either of them
tottered, his whole 'new man' prompted him to recover his balance before
he fell to the ground.--But Orion! Your lover? His guilt seems to have
passed over him; he hopes for reunion with God from a more meritorious
life in the world. Not only is his nature unaltered, but his attitude
with regard to life and to the joys it offers to the children of this
world. Earthly love is spurring him on to strive for what is noble and
great and he earnestly seeks to attain it; but he will fall over every
stone that the devil casts in his path, and find it hard to pick himself
up again, for misfortune has not led him to the new birth or the new life
in God. Just such men have I seen, numbers of times, relapsing into the
sins they had escaped from. Before we can entirely trust a man who has
once--though but once-wandered so far from God's ways, while Grace has
not yet worked effectually in him, we shall do well to watch his dealings
and course for more than a few short days. If you still feel that you
must follow the dictates of your heart, at any rate do not fly into your
lover's open arms, do not abandon to him the pure sanctuary of your body
and soul, do not be wholly his till he has been fully put to the proof."
"But I believe in him entirely!" cried Paula, with a flood of tears.
"You believe because you love him," replied the abbess.
"And because he deserves it."
"And how long has he deserved it?"
"Was he not a splendid man before his fall?"
"And so was many a murderer. Most criminals become outcasts from society
in a single moment."
"But society still accepts Orion."
"Because he is the son of the Mukaukas."
"And because he wins all hearts !"
"Even that of the Almighty?"
"Oh! Mother, Mother! why do you measure him by the standard of your own
sanctified soul? How few are the elect who find a share of the grace of
which you speak!"
"But those who have sinned like him must strive for it."
"And he does so, Mother, in his way."
"It is the wrong way; wrong for those who have sinned as he has. All he
strives for is worldly happiness."
"No, no. He is firm in his faith in God and the Saviour. He is not a
liar."
"And yet he thinks he may escape the penalty?"
"And does not the Lord pardon true repentance?--He has repented; and how
bitterly, how fearfully he has suffered!"
"Say rather that he has felt the stripes that his own sin brought upon
him.--There are more to come; and how will he take them? Temptation
lurks in every path, and how will he avoid it? As your mother, indeed it
is my duty to warn you: Keep your passion and yourself still under
control; continue to watch him, and grant him nothing--not the smallest
favor, as you are a maiden, before he. . ."
"Till when; how long am I to be so basely on my guard?" sobbed Paula.
"Is that love which trusts not and is not ready to share the lot even of
the backslider?"
"Yes, child, yes," interrupted the old woman. "To suffer all things, to
endure all things, is the duty of true love, and therefore of yours; but
you must not allow the most indissoluble of all bonds to unite you to him
till the back-slider has learnt to walk firmly. Follow him step by step,
hold him up with faithful care, never despair of him if he seems other
than what you had hoped. Make it your duty, pious soul, to render him
worthy of grace--but do not be in a hurry to speak the final yes--do not
say it yet."
Paula yielded, though unwillingly, to this last word of counsel; but, in
fact, Orion's fault had filled the abbess with deep distrust. So great a
sinner, under the blight, too, of a father's curse, ought, in her
opinion, to have retired from the world and besieged Heaven for grace and
a new birth, instead of seeking joys, such as she thought none but the
most blameless--and, those of her own confession--could deserve, in union
with so exceptional a creature as her beloved Paula. Indeed, having
herself found peace for her soul only in the cloister, after a stormy and
worldly youth, she would gladly have received the noble daughter of her
old friend as the Bride of Christ within those walls, to be, perhaps, her
successor as Mother Superior. She longed that her darling should be
spared the sufferings she had known through the ruthlessness of faithless
men; so she would not abate a jot of the tenor of her advice, or cease to
impress on Paula, firmly though lovingly, the necessity of following it.
At last Paula took leave of her, bound by a promise not to pledge herself
irrevocably to Orion till his return from Doomiat, and till the abbess
had informed her by letter what opinion she had formed of him in the
course of their flight.
The high-spirited girl had not shed so many tears, as in the course of
this interview, since the fatal affair at Abyla where she had lost her
father and brother; it was with a tear-stained face and aching head that
she had made her way back, under the scorching mid-day sun, to Rufinus'
house, where she sought her old nurse. Betta had earnestly entreated her
to lie down, and when Paula refused to hear of it she persuaded her at
any rate to bathe her head with water as cold as was procurable in this
terrific heat, and to have her hair carefully rearranged by her skilful
hand; for this had been her mother's favorite remedy against headache.
When, at length, Paula and her lover stood face to face, in a shady spot
in the garden, they both looked embarrassed and estranged. He was pale,
and gazed at her with some annoyance; and her red eyes and knit brows,
for her brain was throbbing with piercing pain, did not tend to improve
his mood. It was her part to explain and excuse herself; and as he did
not at once address her after they had exchanged greetings, she said in a
low tone of urgent entreaty:
"Forgive me for coming so late. How long you must have been waiting!
But parting from my best friend, my second mother, agitated me so
painfully--it was so unspeakably sad.--I did not know how to hold up my
head, it ached so when I came home, and now--oh, I had hoped that we
might meet to-day so differently!"
"But even yesterday you had no time to spare for me," he retorted
sullenly, "and this morning--you were present when Rufinus invited me--
this morning!--I am not exacting, and to you, good God! How could I be?
--But have we not to part, to bid each other farewell--perhaps for ever?
Why should you have given up so much time and strength to your friend,
that so scanty a remnant is left for the lover? That is an unfair
division."
"How could I deny it?" she said with melancholy entreaty. "You are
indeed very right; but I could not leave the child last evening, as soon
as she came, and while she was weeping out all her sorrows; and if you
only knew how surprised and grieved I was--how my heart ached when,
instead of finding you, your note......"
"I was obliged to go to Amru," interrupted Orion. "This undertaking
compels me to leave much behind, and I am no longer the freest of the
free, as I used to be. During this dreadful breakfast I have been
sitting on thorns. But let all that pass. I came hither with a heart
high with hope--and now?--You see, Paula, this enterprise tears me in two
in more ways than you can imagine, puts me into a more critical position,
and weighs more on my mind than you can think or know--I will explain it
all to you at another time--and to bear it all, to keep up the spirit and
happy energy that I need, I must be secure of the one thing for which I
could take far greater toil and danger as mere child's play; I must
know......"
"You must know," she interposed, "whether my heart is fully and wholly
open to your love. . . ."
"And whether," he added, with growing ardor, "in spite of the bitter
suffering that weighs on my wretched soul, I may hope to be happier than
the saints in bliss. O Paula, adored and only woman, may I. . . ."
"You may," she said clearly and fervently. "I love you, Orion, and shall
never, never cease to love you with my whole soul."
He flew to her side, clasped both her hands as if beside himself,
snatched them to his lips regardless of the nearness of the house, whence
ten pairs of eyes might have seen him, and covered them with burning
kisses, till she drew them from him with the entreaty: "No, no; forbear,
I entreat you. No--not now."
"Yes, now, at this very moment--or, if not, when?" he asked vehemently.
"But here, in this garden--you are right, this is no place for two human
beings so happy as we are. Come with me; come into the house and lead
the way to a spot where we may be unseen and unheard, alone with each
other and our happiness."
"No, no, no!" she hastily put in, pressing her hand to her aching brow.
"Come with me to the bench under the sycamore; it is shady there, and you
can tell me everything, and hear once more how entirely love has taken
possession of me."
He looked in her face, surprised and disappointed; but she turned towards
the sycamore and sat down beneath it. He slowly followed her. She
signed to him to take a seat by her side, but he stood up in front of
her, saying sadly and despondently.
"Always the same--always calm and cold. Is this fair, Paula? Is this
the overwhelming love of which you spoke? Is this your response to the
yearning cry of a passionately ardent heart? Is this all that love can
grant to love--that a betrothed owes to her lover on the very eve of
parting?"
At this she looked up at him, deeply distressed, and said in pathetically
urgent entreaty: "O Orion, Orion! Have I not told you, can you not see
and feel how much I love you? You must know and feel it; and if you do,
be content, I entreat. You, whom alone I love, be satisfied to know that
this heart is yours, that your Paula--your own Paula, for that indeed I
am--will think of nothing, care for nothing, pray and entreat Heaven for
nothing but you, yes you, my own, my all."
"Then come, come with me," he insisted, "and grant your betrothed the
rights that are his due.
"Nay, not my betrothed--not yet," she besought him, with all the fervor
of her tortured soul. "In my veins too the blood flows warm with
yearning. Gladly would I fly to your arms and lay my head against
yours, but not to-day can I become your betrothed, not yet; I cannot,
I dare not!"
"And why not? Tell me, at any rate, why not," he cried indignantly,
clenching his fist to his breast. "Why will you not be my bride, if
indeed it is true that you love me? Why have you invented this new and
intolerable torment?"
"Because prudence tells me," she replied in a low, hurried voice, while
her bosom heaved painfully, as though she were afraid to hear her own
words; "because I see that the time is not yet come. Ah, Orion! you
have not yet learnt to bridle the desires and cravings that burn within
you; you have forgotten all too quickly what is past--what a mountain we
had to cross before we succeeded in finding each other, before I--for I
must say it, my dear one--before I could look you in the face without
anger and aversion. A strange and mysterious ordering has brought it
about; and you, too, have honestly done your best that everything should
be changed, that what was white should now be black, that the chill north
wind should turn to a hot southerly one. Thus poison turns to healing,
and a curse to a blessing. In this foolish heart of mine passionate
hatred has given way to no less fervent love. Still, I cannot yet be
your bride, your wife. Call it cowardice, call it selfish caution, what
you will. I call it prudence, and applaud it; though it cost my poor
eyes a thousand bitter tears before my heart and brain could consent to
be guided by the warning voice. Of one thing you may be fully assured:
my heart will never be another's, come what may--it is yours with my
whole soul!--But I will not be your bride till I can say to you with glad
confidence, as well as with passionate love: 'You have conquered--take
me, I am yours!' Then you shall feel and confess that Paula's love is
not less vehement, less ardent.... O God! Orion, learn to know and
understand me. You must--for my sake and your own, you must!--My head,
merciful Heaven, my head!"
She bowed her face and clasped her hands to her burning brow; Orion, pale
and shivering, laid his hand on her shoulder, and said in a harsh, forced
voice that had lost all its music: "The Esoterics impose severe trials
on their disciples before they admit them into the mysteries. And we are
in Egypt--but the difference is a wide one when the rule is applied to
love. How ever, all this is not from yourself. What you call prudence
is the voice of that nun!"
"It is the voice of reason," replied Paula softly. "The yearning of my
heart had overpowered it, and I owe to my friend. . . ."
"What do you owe her?" cried the young man furiously indignant. "You
should curse her, rather, for doing you so ill a turn, as I do at this
moment. What does she know of me? Has she ever heard a word from my
lips? If that despotic and casuistic recluse could have known what my
heart and soul are like, she would have advised you differently. Even as
a childs' confidence and love alone could influence me. Whatever my
faults might be, I never was false to kindness and trust.--And, so far
as you are concerned--you who are prudence and reason in person--blest in
your love, I should have cared only for your approbation. If I could
have overcome the last of your scruples, I should indeed have been proud
and happy!--I would have brought the sun and stars down from the sky for
you, and have laughed temptation to scorn!--But as it is--instead of
being raised I am lowered, a laughing-stock even in my own eyes. One
with you, I could have led the way on wings to the realms of light where
Perfection holds sway!--But as it is? What a task lies before me!--To
heat your frigid love to flaming point by good deeds, as though they were
olive-logs. A pretty task for a man--to put himself to the proof before
the woman he loves! It is a hideous and insulting torture which I will
not submit to, against which my whole inner man revolts, and which you
will and must forego--if indeed it is true that you love me!"
"I love you, oh! I love you," she cried, beside herself, and seizing his
hands. "Perhaps you are right. I--my God what shall I do? Only do not
ask me yet, to speak the final yes or no. I cannot control myself to the
feeblest thought. You see, you see, how I am suffering!"
"Yes, I see it," he replied, looking compassionately at her pale face and
drawn brow. "And if it must be so, I say: till this evening then. Try
to rest now, and take care of yourself.--But then. . . ."
"Then, during the voyage, the flight, repeat to the abbess all you have
just said to me. She is a noble woman, and she, too, will learn to
understand and to love you, I am sure. She will retract the word I know.
. . ."
"What word?"
"My word, given to her, that I would not be yours. . . ."
"Till I had gone through the Esoteric tests?" exclaimed Orion with an
angry shrug. "Now go,--go and lie down. This hour, which should have
been the sweetest of our lives, a stranger has embittered and darkened.
You are not sure of yourself--nor I of myself. Anything more that we
could say now and here would lead to no good issue for either you or me.
Go and rest; sleep off your pain, and I--I will try to forget.--If you
could but see the turmoil in my soul!--But farewell till our next, more
friendly--I hardly dare trust myself to say our happier meeting."
He hastily turned away, but she called after him in sad lament: "Orion do
not forget--Orion, you know that I love you."
But he did not hear; he burried on with his head bowed over his breast,
down to the road, without reentering Rufinus' house.