“Meanwhile,” he said, “‘do not press me further,’ ought to end your sentence.  Oh!  I quite understand you; and until I feel that you have good reason once more to respect the maniac who lost you by his own fault, I, who fought you like your most deadly foe, will not even speak the final word.  I will silence my longing, I will try......”

“You will try to show me—­nay, you will show me—­that in you, my foe and persecutor, I have gained my dearest friend!—­And now to quite another matter.  We know how we stand towards each other and can count on each other with glad and perfect confidence, thanking the Almighty for having opened out a new life to us.  To Him we will this day. . . .”

“Offer praise and thanksgiving,” Orion joyfully put in.

And here began the conversation relating to little Mary which Katharina had overheard.

They had gone out of hearing again when Orion explained to Paula that all arrangements for the little girl must be postponed till the morrow, as he had business now with Amru, on the other shore of the Nile.  He decisively confuted her fears lest he should allow himself to be perverted by the Moslems to their faith; for though he ardently desired to let the Patriarch feel that he had no mind to submit patiently to the affront to his deceased father, he clung too firmly to his creed, and knew too well what was due to the memory of the dead, and to Paula herself, ever to take this extreme step.  He spoke in glowing terms as he described how, for the future, he purposed to devote his best powers to his hapless and oppressed country, whether it were in the service of the Khaliff or in some other way; and she eagerly entered into his schemes, quite carried away by his noble enthusiasm, and acknowledging to herself with silent rapture the superiority of his mind and the soaring loftiness of his soul.

When, presently, they began talking again of the past she asked him quite frankly, but in a low voice and without looking up, what had become of the emerald he had taken from the Persian hanging.  He turned pale at this, looked at the ground, and hesitatingly replied that he had sent it to Constantinople—­“to have it set—­set in an ornament—­worthy of her whom —­whom he. . . .”

But here he broke off, stamped angrily with his foot, and looking straight into the girl’s eyes exclaimed: 

“A pack of lies, foul and unworthy lies!—­I have been truthful by nature all my life; but does it not seem as though that accursed day forced me to some base action every time it is even mentioned?  Yes, Paula; the gem is really on its way to Byzantium.  But the stolen gift was never meant for you, but for a fair, gentle creature, in nothing blameworthy, who gave me her heart.  To me she was never anything but a pretty plaything; still, there were moments when I believed—­poor soul!—­I first learnt what love meant through you, how great and how sacred it is!—­Now you know all; this, indeed, is the truth!”