All that this patrician hussy had done to aggrieve him—­she should expiate it all, and his triumph meant woe, not only to that one woman, but to the Christian faith which he hated!

Bishop John, however, had not been idle meanwhile.  Immediately after his interference with the popular vote he had despatched a letter by a carrier-pigeon to the patriarch in Upper Egypt, and Benjamin’s reply would no doubt give him powers for still more vigorous measures.  In church, before the Senate, and even in the highways, he and his clergy did their utmost to combat the atrocious project of the authorities and the populace, but the zeal which was stirred up by old Horapollo soon broke into brighter flames than the conservatism, orthodoxy and breadth of view which the ecclesiastics did their utmost to fan.  The wind blew with equal force from both quarters, but on one side it blew on smoldering fuel, and on the other on overflowing and flaming stores.  Famine and despair had undermined faith, and weakened discipline; even the mightiest weapons of the Church—­Cursing and blessing—­were powerless.  A floating beam was held out to sinking men, and they would no longer wait for the life-boat that was approaching to rescue them, with strong hands at the oars and a trusty pilot at the helm.

Horapollo went no more to the widow’s home.  A few hours after she had shown him the door, his slaves came and fetched away the various things he had carried there with him.  His body servant at the same time brought a large sealed phial and a letter to Dame Joanna, as follows: 

“It is wrong to judge a man without hearing his defence.  This you have done; but I owe you no grudge.  Philippus, on his return, will perhaps pick up the ends of the tie and join again what you have this day cut.  I send you a portion of the remedy he left with me at parting to use against the plague in case of need.  Its good effects have been tested within the last few days.  May the sickness which has fallen on your neighbors, spare you and yours.”

Joanna was much pleased with this letter but, when she had read it aloud, little Mary exclaimed: 

“If any one should fall ill he shall not take a drop of that mixture!  I tell you he only wants to poison us!”

Joanna, however, maintained that the old man was not bad hearted in spite of his unaccountable hatred of Paula; and Pulcheria declared that it must be so, if only because Philip esteemed him so highly.  If only he were here, everything would have been different and have turned out well.

Mary remained with the mother and daughter till it grew dark; her chatter always led them back to Paula; and when, in the afternoon, the Nabathaean messenger came to them, and told them from their captive friend that he had brought her father home to her, the women once more began to hope, and Mary could allow herself to give free expression to her fond love before she quitted them, without exciting their suspicions.