“And the young rascal takes what he finds!” said the Moslem laughing.  “If that is all you are alarmed at I am glad for the youth.  He is young and such things are allowable.”

“Nay, Sir, even my brother—­he lives now in Alexandria, and is blind and foolish enough still in all that concerns his former pupil—­and even he thinks this is a dangerous rock ahead.  If he does not change in this respect he will wander further and further from the law of the Lord, and imperil his soul, for dangers surround him on all sides like roaring lions.  The noble gifts of a handsome and engaging person will lead him to his ruin; and though I do not desire it, I suspect. . . .”

“You look on the dark side and judge hardly,” replied the old man.  “The young. . . .”

“Even the young, or at least the Christian young, ought to control themselves, though I, if any one, am inclined to make the utmost allowance for the handsome lad—­nay, and I may confess:  when he smiles at me I feel at once as if I had met with some good-luck; and there are a thousand other men in Memphis who feel the same, and still more the women you may be sure—­but many a one has shed bitter tears on his account for all that.—­But, by all the saints!—­Talk of the wolf and you see his tail!  Look, there he is!—­Halt!  Stop a minute, you men; it is worth while, Sir, to tarry a moment.”

“Is that his fine quadriga in front of the high garden gate yonder?”

“Those are the Pannonian horses he brought with him, as swift as lightning and as. . . .  But look!  Ah, now they have disappeared behind the hedge; but you, high up on your dromedary, must be able to see them.  The little maid by his side is the widow Susannah’s daughter.  This garden and the beautiful mansion behind the trees belong to her.”

“A very handsome property!” said the Arab.

“I should think so indeed!” replied the Memphite.  “The garden goes down to the Nile, and then, what care is taken of it!”

“Was it not here that Philommon the corn-merchant lived formerly?” asked the old man, as though some memories were coming back to him.

“To be sure.  He was Susannah’s husband and must have been a man of fifty when he first wooed her.  The little girl is their only child and the richest heiress in the whole province; but she is not altogether grown up though she is sixteen years old—­an old man’s child, you understand, but a pretty, merry creature, a laughing dove in human form, and so quick and lively.  Her own people call her the little water-wagtail.”

“Good!—­Good and very appropriate,” said the merchant well pleased.  “She is small too, a child rather than a maiden; but the graceful, gladsome creature takes my fancy.  And the governor’s son—­what is his name?”

“Orion, Sir,” replied the guide.

“And by my beard,” said the old man smiling.  “You have not over-praised him, man!  Such a youth as this Orion is not to be seen every day.  What a tall fellow, and how becoming are those brown curls.  Such as he are spoilt to begin with by their mothers, and then all the other women follow suit.  And he has a frank, shrewd face with something behind it.  If only he had left his purple coat and gold frippery in Constantinople!  Such finery is out of place in this dismal ruinous city.”