dear little Mary once more.  Indeed and indeed you are much better than I am.  Merciful Saviour, what possessed me last evening?  And all through him, through the man no one can help loving—­ through Orion!—­And would you believe it:  I do not even know why he led me into this sin.  But I must try to care for him no more, to forget him entirely, although, although,—­only think, he called me his betrothed; but now that he has betrayed me into sin, can I dare to become his wife?  It has given me no peace all night.  I love him, yes I love him, you cannot think how dearly; still, I cannot be his!  Sooner will I go into a convent, or drown myself in the Nile!—­And I will say all this to my mother, this very day.”

The Greek governess had looked on in astonishment, for it was indeed strange to see the young girl kneeling in front of the child.  She listened to her eager flow of unintelligible words, wondering whether she could ever teach her pupil—­with her grandmother’s help if need should be—­to cultivate a more sedate and Greek demeanor.

At this juncture Paula came down the path.  Some slaves followed her, carrying several boxes and bundles and a large litter, all making their way to the Nile, where a boat was waiting to ferry her up the river to her new home.

As she lingered unobserved, her eye rested on the touching picture of the two young things clasped in each other’s arms, and she overheard the last words of the gentle little creature who had done her such cruel wrong.  She could only guess at what had occurred, but she did not like to be a listener, so she called Mary; and when the child started up and flew to throw her arms round her neck with vehement and devoted tenderness, she covered her little face and hair with kisses.  Then she freed herself from the little girl’s embrace, and said, with tearful eyes: 

“Good-bye, my darling!  In a few minutes I shall no longer belong here; another and a strange home must be mine.  Love me always, and do not forget me, and be quite sure of one thing:  you have no truer friend on earth than I am.”

At this, fresh tears flowed; the child implored her not to go away, not to leave her; but Paula could but refuse, though she was touched and astonished to find that she had reaped so rich a harvest of love, here where she had sown so little.  Then she gave her hand at parting to the governess, and when she turned to Katharina, to bid farewell, hard as it was, to the murderer of her happiness, the young girl fell at her feet bathed in tears of repentance, covered her knees and hands with kisses, and confessed herself guilty of a terrible sin.  Paula, however, would not allow her to finish; she lifted her up, kissed her forehead, and said that she quite understood how she had been led into it, and that she, like Mary, would try to forgive her.

Standing by the governor’s many-oared barge, to which the young girls now escorted her, she found Orion.  Twice already this morning he had tried in vain to get speech with her, and he looked pale and agitated.  He had a splendid bunch of flowers in his hand; he bestowed a hasty greeting on Mary and his betrothed, and did not heed the fact that Katharina returned it hesitatingly and without a word.