“Aye that he is, and besides all that—­may I tell you something and will you stand by me?”

“Gladly, so far as lies in my power.”

Arsinoe looked down at the ground in charming and blushing confusion and said in a low tone: 

“We love each other—­I am to be his wife.”

“Accept my best wishes.”

“Ah, if only we had got as far as that!  But since my father’s death we have not seen each other.  I do not know where he and his parents are, and how are they ever to find me here?”

“Write to him.”

“I cannot write well, and even if I could my messenger—­”

“Has my sister had any search made for him?”

“No—­oh, no.  I may not even let his name pass my lips.  She wants to give me to some one else; she says that making statues is hateful to the God of the Christians.”

“Does she?  And you want me to seek your lover?”

“Yes, yes, my dear lord! and if you find him tell him I shall be alone to-morrow early, and again towards evening, every day indeed, for then your sister goes to serve her God in her country house.”

“So you want to make me a lover’s go-between.  You could not find a more inexperienced one.”

“Ah! noble Pontius, if you have a heart—­”

“Let me speak to the end, child!  I will seek your lover, and if I find him he shall know where you are, but I cannot and will not invite him to an assignation here behind my sister’s back.  He shall come openly to Paulina and prefer his suit.  If she refuses her consent I will try to take the matter in hand with Paulina.  Are you satisfied with this?”

“I must need be.  And tell me, you will let me know when you have found out where he and his parents have gone?”

“That I promise you.  And now tell the one thing.  Are you happy in this house?”

Arsinoe looked down in some embarrassment, then she hastily shook her head in vehement negation and hurried away.  Pontius looked after her with compassion and sympathy.

“Poor, pretty little creature!” he murmured to himself, and went on to his sister’s room.

The house-steward had announced his visit, and Paulina met him on the threshold.  In his sister’s sitting-room the architect found Eumenes, the bishop, a dignified old man with clear, kind eyes.

“Your name is in everybody’s mouth to-day,” said Paulina, after the usual greetings.  They say you did wonders last night.”

“I got home very tired,” said Pontius, “but as you so pressingly desired to speak to me, I shortened my hours of rest.”

“How sorry I am!” exclaimed the widow.

The bishop perceived that the brother and sister had business to discuss together, and asked whether he were not interrupting it.

“On the contrary,” cried Paulina.  “The subject under discussion is my newly-adopted daughter who, unhappily, has her head full of silly and useless things.  She tells me she has seen you at Lochias, Pontius.”