Philippus loved Paula.—­A trifling incident suddenly occurred to his mind which made him certain on that point; he had only too much experience in such matters.  Yesterday, it had struck him that ever since his father’s death—­that was ever since Paula’s change of residence—­Philippus dressed more carefully than had been his wont.  “Now this,” thought he, “is a change that does not come over so serious a man unless it is caused by love.”

A mingled torment of pain and rage shot through him as he again saw the tall shadow cross the window.  For the first time in his life he felt the pangs of jealousy, which he had so often laughed at in his friends; but was it not absurd to allow it to torture him; was he not sure, since that morning’s meeting, quite sure of Paula?  And Philippus!  Even if he, Orion, must retire into the background before a higher judge, in the eyes of a woman he surely had the advantage!—­But in spite of all this it troubled him to know that the physician was with Paula at such an hour; he angrily pulled his horse’s head round, and it was a pleasure to him to feel the fiery creature, unused as it was to such rough treatment, turn restive at it now.  By the time he had gone a hundred steps from those windows with their cursed glare, the horse was displaying all the temper and vice that had been taken out of him as a foal.  Orion had to fight a pitched battle with his steed, and it was a relief to him to exercise his power with curb and knee.  In vain did the creature dance round and round; in vain did he rear and plunge; the steady rider was his master; and it was not till he had brought him to quietness and submission that Orion drew breath and looked about him while he patted the horse’s smooth neck.

Close at hand, behind a low hedge, spread the thick, dark groves of Susannah’s garden and between them the back of the house was visible, being more brilliantly lighted than even Paula’s rooms.  Three of the windows showed lights; two were rather dim, however, the result probably of one lamp only.

All this could not matter to him; nevertheless he remained gazing at the roof of the colonnade which went round the house below the upper floor; for, on the terrace it formed, leaning against a window-frame, stood a small figure with her head thrust so far forth to listen that the light shone through the curls that framed it.  Katharina was trying to overhear a dialogue between the Patriarch Benjamin—­whose bearded and apostolic head Orion could clearly recognize—­and the priest John, an insignificant looking little man, of whom, however, the deceased Mukaukas had testified that he was far superior to old Plotinus the Bishop in intellect and energy.