“Shake hands, girl.  I often ought to have behaved differently to you; but why have you never in the smallest thing sought my love?  God is my witness that at first I was fully disposed to regard you as a daughter, but you—­well, let it pass.  I am sorry now that I should—­if I have distressed you.”

At the first words Paula had placed her hand in that of Neforis.  Hers was as cold as marble, the elder woman’s was hot and moist; it seemed as though their hands were typical of the repugnance of their hearts.  They both felt it so, and their clasp was but a brief one.  When Paula withdrew hers, she preserved her composure better than the governor’s wife, and said quite calmly, though her cheeks were burning: 

“Then we will try to part without any ill-will, and I thank you for having made that possible.  To-morrow morning I hope I may be permitted to take leave of my uncle in peace, for I love him; and of little Mary.”

“But you need not go now!  On the contrary, I urgently request you to stay,” Neforis eagerly put in.

“George will not let you leave.  You yourself know how fond he is of you.”

“He has often been as a father to me,” said Paula, and even her eyes shone through tears.  “I would gladly have stayed with him till the end.  Still, it is fixed—­I must go.”

“And if your uncle adds his entreaties to mine?”

“It will be in vain.”

Neforis took the maiden’s hand in her own again, and tried with genuine anxiety to persuade her,—­but Paula was firm.  She adhered to her determination to leave the governor’s house in the morning.

“But where will you find a suitable house?” cried Neforis.  “A residence that will be fit for you?”

“That shall be my business,” replied the physician.  “Believe me, noble lady, it would be best for all that Paula should seek another home.  But it is to be hoped that she may decide on remaining in Memphis.”

At this Neforis exclaimed: 

“Here, with us, is her natural home!—­Perhaps God may turn your heart for your uncle’s sake, and we may begin a new and happier life.”  Paula’s only reply was a shake of the head; but Neforis did not see it the metal tinkle sounded for the third time, and it was her duty to respond to its call.

As soon as she had left the room Paula drew a deep breath, exclaiming: 

“O God!  O God!  How hard it was to refrain from flinging in her teeth the crime her wicked son. . . .  No, no; nothing should have made me do that.  But I cannot tell you how the mere sight of that woman angers me, how light-hearted I feel since I have broken down the bridge that connected me with this house and with Memphis.”

“With Memphis?” asked Philippus.

“Yes,” said Paula gladly.  “I go away—­away from hence, out of the vicinity of this woman and her son!—­Whither?  Oh! back to Syria, or to Greece—­every road is the right one, if it only takes me away from this place.”