The freedman’s brave heart would not allow him to fly to leave her with the injured girl; he flung his shoes on the floor, raised the senseless form, and propped it against one of the columns that stood round the hall.  It was not till his mistress had repeated her orders that he hurried away.  Paula watched him depart; as soon as she heard the heavy door of the atrium close upon him, heedless of her own suspicious-looking position, she shouted for help, so loudly that her cries rang through the nocturnal silence of the house, and in a few minutes, from this side and that, a slave, a maid, a clerk, a cook, a watchman, came hurrying in.

Foremost of all—­so soon indeed that he must have been on his way when he heard her cry—­came Orion.  He wore a light night-dress, intended, so she said to herself, to give the wretch the appearance of having sprung out of bed.  But was this indeed he?  Was this man with a flushed face, staring eyes, disordered hair and hoarse voice, that favorite of fortune whose happy nature, easy demeanor, sunny gaze and enchanting song had bewitched her soul?  His hand shook as he came close to her and the injured slave; and how forced and embarrassed was his enquiry as to what had happened; how scared he looked as he asked her what had brought her into this part of the house at such an hour.

She made no reply; but when his mother repeated the question soon after, in a sharp voice, she—­she who had never in her life told a lie—­said with hasty decision:  “I could not sleep, and the bark of the dog and a cry for help brought me here.”

“I call that having sharp ears!” retorted Neforis with an incredulous shrug.  “For the future, at any rate, under similar circumstances you need not be so prompt.  How long, pray, have young girls trusted themselves alone when murder is cried?”

“If you had but armed yourself, fair daughter of heroes!” added Orion; but he had no sooner spoken than he bitterly regretted it.  What a glance Paula cast at him!  It was more than she could bear to hear him address her in jest, almost in mockery:  him of all men, and at this moment for the first time—­and to be thus reminded of her father!  She answered proudly and with cutting sharpness:  “I leave weapons to fighting men and murderers!”

“To fighting men, and murderers!” repeated Orion, pretending not to understand the point of her words.  He forced a smile; but then, feeling that he must make some defence, he added bitterly:  “Really, that sounds like the utterance of a feeble-hearted damsel!  But let me beg you to come closer and be calm.  These pitiable gashes on the poor creature’s shoulder—­I care more about her than you do, take my word for it—­were inflicted by a four-footed assassin, whose weapons were given by nature.  Yes, that is what happened.  Rough old Beki keeps watch at the door of the tablinum.  What brought the poor child here I know not, but he caught scent of her and pulled her down.”