The old man had a horror of everything that might remind him of death, and a cold shiver ran through him.  To live so near to a focus of the disease was most alarming and dangerous!  How had it invaded this, the healthiest part of the town, which the last raging epidemic had spared?

An officer of the town-council, whom he called to him, told him that two slaves, father and son, whose duty it was to take charge of the baths in the widow’s house, had been first attacked, but they had been carried quietly away in the night to the new tents for the sick; to-day, however, the widow herself had fallen ill.  To prevent the spread of the infection, the plot of ground was now guarded on all sides.

“Be strict, be sharp; not a rat must creep out!” cried the old man as he rode on.

He was later than he had been yesterday; supper must be ready.  After a short rest he was preparing to join the family at their meal, washing and dressing with the help of his servant, when a lame slave-girl came into his room and placed a tray covered with steaming dishes on the low table by the divan.

What was the meaning of this?  Before he could ask, he was informed that for the future the women wished to eat by themselves; he would be served in his own room.

At this a bright patch of red colored his cheeks; after brief reflection he cried to his servant.  “My ass!” and added to the girl:  “Where is your mistress?”

“In the viridarium with Gamaliel the goldsmith; but they are going to supper immediately.”

“And without their guest?  I understand!” muttered the old man, taking up his hat and marching past the maid out of the room.  In the hall he met Gamaliel, to whom a slave-girl was handing his stick.  Horapollo could guess that the Jew had come only to warn the women against him and, without vouchsafing him a glance, he went into the dining-room.  There he found Pulchena and Mary kneeling in tears by the side of Joanna, who was weeping too.

He guessed for whom were these lamentations, and prompted by the wish to prove the falsity of the accusation that charged him with having entered the house as a spy, he spoke to the widow.  She shuddered as he entered, and she now pointed to the door with an outstretched finger; when he nevertheless stood still and was about to make his defence, she interrupted him loudly and urgently:  “No, no, my lord!  This house is henceforth closed against you!  You yourself have broken every tie that bound us!  Do not any longer disturb our peace!  Go back to the place you came from.”

At this the old man made one more attempt to speak; but the widow rose, and saying:  “Come, my children,” she hastily withdrew with the girls into the adjoining room, and closed the door.

Horapollo was left alone on the threshold.

Old as he was, in all his life he had never suffered such an insult; but he did not lay it to the score of those who had shown him the door, but to the already long one of the Syrian girl; as he rode back to his own home on his white ass, he stopped several times to speak to the passers-by.