Orion was exhausted and hungry; he enquired for his mother, and hearing that she had gone to lie down, he went into the dining-room to get some food.  Although breakfast had but just been served, Eudoxia was awaiting him with evident impatience.  Her heart was bursting with a great piece of news, and as Orion entered, greeting her, she cried out: 

“Have you heard?  Do you know?” Then she began, encouraged by his curt negative, to pour out to him how that Neforis, by the desire of the physician who had lately been to see her, had decided on sending her, Eudoxia, away with her granddaughter to enjoy better air under the roof of a friend of the leech’s; they were to go this very day, or to-morrow at latest.

Orion was disagreeably startled by this intelligence.  He had not expected that Philippus would come so early, and he himself had been the first to promote a scheme which now no longer seemed advisable.

“How very provoking!” he muttered between his teeth, as a slave offered him a roast fowl and asparagus.

“Is it not?  And perhaps we shall have to go quite far into the country,” said the Greek, with a languishing look, as she drew one of the long stems between her teeth.

The words and the glance made Orion feel as if he grudged the old fool the good food she was eating, and his voice was not particularly ingratiating as he replied that town and country were all the same, the only point was which would be best for the child.  When he went on to say that he was quitting home next evening, Eudoxia cried out, let a stick of asparagus drop in her lap, and said despairingly:  “Oh, then everything is at an end!”

He, however, interposed reproachfully:  “On the contrary, then your duty begins; you must devote yourself wholly and exclusively to the child.  You know that her own grandmother is averse to her.  Give her your best affection, as you have already begun to do, be a mother to her; and if you really are my well-wisher, show it in that way.  For my part you will find me grateful, and not in words alone.  Go tomorrow to the treasurer’s office; Nilus will give you the only thing by which I can at present prove my gratitude.  Do your best to cherish the child; I have taken care to provide for your old age.”

He rose, cutting short the Greek’s profuse expressions of thanks, and betook himself to his mother.  She was still in her room; however, he now sent word that he had come to see her, and she was ready to admit him, having expected that he would come even sooner.

She was reclining, half-sitting, on a divan in her cool and shady bedroom, and she at once told her son of her determination to follow the physician’s advice and entrust the little girl to his friend.  She spoke in a tone of sleepy indifference; but as soon as Orion opposed her and begged her to keep Mary at home, she grew more lively, and looking him wrathfully in the face exclaimed:  “Can you wish that?  How can you ask me?” and she went on in repining lamentation: