overspreading land after land with incredible power; ambition and covetousness are driving thousands into its fold.  But we—­we are faithful to Christ Jesus, we are no traitors.  If I, I the Mukaukas, had consented to go over to the Khaliff I might have been a prince in purple, and have governed my own country in his name.  How many have deserted to the Moslems!  And the temptation will come to you, too, and their faith offers much that is attractive to the crowd.  They imagine a Paradise full of unspeakably alluring joys—­but we, my son—­we shall meet again in our own, shall we not?”

“Yes, yes, Father!” cried the young man.  “I will remain a Christian, staunch and true. . .”

“That is right,” interrupted the sick man.  He was determined to forget that his son wished to marry a Melchite and went on quickly:  “Paula. . . .  But no more of that.  Remain faithful to your own creed—­otherwise. . . .  However, child, seek your own road; you are—­but you will walk in the right way, and it is because I know that, know it surely, that I can die so calmly.

“I have provided abundantly for your temporal welfare.  I have been a good husband, a faithful father, have I not, O Saviour?—­Have I not, Neforis?  And that which is my best and surest comfort is that for many long years I have administered justice in this land, and never, never once—­and Thou my Refuge and Comforter art my witness!—­never once consciously or willingly have I been an unrighteous judge.  Before me the poor were equal with the rich, the powerful with the helpless widow.  Who would have dared. . . .”  Here he broke off; his eyes, wandering feebly round the room, fell on Mary who had sunk on her knees, opposite to Orion on the other side of the bed.  The dying man, who had thus summed up the outcome of a long and busy life, ceased his reflections, and when the child saw that he was vainly trying to turn his powerless head towards her, she threw her arms round him with passionate grief; unscared by his fixed gaze or the altered hue of his beloved face, she kissed his lips and cheeks, exclaiming: 

“Grandfather, dear grandfather, do not leave us; stay with us, pray, pray stay with us!”

Something faintly resembling a smile parted his parched lips, and all the tenderness with which his soul was overflowing for this sweet young bud of humanity would have found expression in his voice but that he could only mutter huskily: 

“Mary, my darling!  For your sake I should be glad to live a long while yet, a very long while; but the other world—­I am standing already on its threshold.  Good-bye—­I must indeed say good-bye.”

“No, no—­I will pray; oh!  I will pray so fervently that you may get well again!” cried the child.  But he replied: