Nothing could be more unlikely than that any one in Neforis’ household—­excepting her little grandchild should ever remember her with kindness; and she scarcely desired it; but she rebelled against the idea of forfeiting the respect she had earned, even in the governor’s house.  If her friend should succeed in prolonging her uncle’s life, by a confidential interview with him she might win back his old affection and his good opinion.

Her new home she felt was but a resting-place, a tabernacle in the desert-journey of her solitary pilgrimage, and she here meant to avail herself of the information she had gathered from her Melchite dependents.  Hope had now risen supreme in her heart over grief and disappointment.  Orion’s presence alone hung like a threatening hail-cloud over the sprouting harvest of her peace of mind.  And yet, next to the necessity of waiting at Memphis for the return of her messenger, nothing tied her to the place so strongly as her interest in watching the future course of his life, at any rate from a distance.  What she felt for him-and she told herself it was deep aversion-nevertheless constituted a large share of her inner life, little as she would confess it to herself.

Her new hosts had received her as a welcome guest, and they certainly did not seem to be poor.  The house was spacious, and though it was old and unpretentious it was comfortable and furnished with artistic taste.  The garden had amazed her by the care lavished on it; she had seen a hump-backed gardener and several children at work in it.  A strange party-for every one of them, like their chief, was in some way deformed or crippled.

The plot of ground—­which extended towards the river to the road-way for foot passengers, vehicles and the files of men towing the Nile-boats—­was but narrow, and bounded on either side by extensive premises.  Not far from the spot where it lay nearest to the river was the bridge of boats connecting Memphis with the island of Rodah.  To the right was the magnificent residence—­a palace indeed—­belonging to Susannah; to the left was an extensive grove, where tall palms, sycamores with spreading foliage, and dense thickets of blue-green tamarisk trees cast their shade.  Above this bower of splendid shrubs and ancient trees rose a long, yellow building crowned with a turret; and this too was not unknown to her, for she had often heard it spoken of in her uncle’s house, and had even gone there now and then escorted by Perpetua.  It was the convent of St. Cecilia, the refuge of the last nuns of the orthodox creed left in Memphis; for, though all the other sisterhoods of her confession had long since been banished, these had been allowed to remain in their old home, not only because they were famous sick-nurses, a distinction common to all the Melchite orders, but even more because the decaying municipality could not afford to sacrifice the large tax they annually paid to it.  This tax was the interest on a considerable capital bequeathed to the convent by a certain wise predecessor of the Mukaukas’, with the prudent proviso, ratified under the imperial seal of Theodosius II., that if the convent were at any time broken up, this endowment, with the land and buildings which it likewise owed to the generosity of the same benefactor, should become the property of the Christian emperor at that time reigning.