At last Philippus came in and confirmed her fears.  The governor’s death had shocked him no less than it did her, and he had to tell Paula all he knew of the dead man’s last hours.

“Still, one good thing has come out of this misery,” he said.  “There is nothing so comforting as the discovery that we have been deceived in thinking ill of a man and of his character.  This Orion, who has sinned so basely against himself and against you, is not utterly reprobate.”

“Not?” interrupted Paula.  “Then he has taken you in too!”

“Taken me in?” said the leech.  “Hardly, I think.  I have, alas! stood by many a death-bed; for I am too often sent for when Death is already beckoning the sick man away.  I have met thousands of mourners in these melancholy scenes, which, I can assure you, are the very best school for training any one who desires to search the hearts of his fellow-creatures.  By the bed of death, or in the mart, where everything is a question of Mine and Thine, it is easy to see how some—­we for instance—­are as careful to hide from the world all that is great and noble in us as others are to conceal what is petty and mean—­we read men’s hearts as an open page.  From my observations of the dying and of those who sorrow for them, I, who am not Menander not Lucian, could draw a series of portraits which should be as truthful likenesses as though the men had turned themselves inside out before me.”

“That a dying man should show himself as he really is I can well believe,” replied Paula.  “He need have no further care for the opinions of others; but the mourners?  Why, custom requires them to assume an air of grief and to shed tears.”

“Very true; regret repeats itself by the side of the dead,” replied the physician.  “But the chamber of the dying is like a church.  Death consecrates it, and the man who stands face to face with death often drops the mask by which he cheats his fellows.  There we may see faces which you would shudder to look on, but others, too, which merely to see is enough to make us regard the degenerate species to which we belong with renewed respect.”

“And you found such a comforting vision in Orion,—­the thief, the false witness, the corrupt judge!” exclaimed Paula, starting up in indignant astonishment.

“There! you see,” laughed Philippus.  “Just like a woman!  A little juggling, and lo! what was only rose color is turned to purple.  No.  The son of the Mukaukas has not yet undergone such a dazzling change of hue; but he has a feeling and impressible heart—­and I hold even that in high esteem.  I have no doubt that he loved his father deeply, nay passionately; though I have ample reason to believe him capable of the very worst.  So long as I was present at the scene of death the father and son were parting in all friendship and tenderness, and when the good old man’s heart had ceased to beat I found Orion in a state which is only possible to have when love has lost what it held dearest.”