Was she as innocent as she was haughty and cold?  What was she doing in the viridarium at midnight?—­For she must have been there before that ill-starred dog flew at Mandane.  An assignation with the owner of the shoes his mother had found was out of the question, for they belonged to some man about the stables.  Love, thought he, for a wonder had nothing to do with it; but as he came in he had noticed a man crossing the court-yard who looked like Paula’s freedman, Hiram the trainer.  Probably she had arranged a meeting with her stammering friend in order—­in order?—­Well, there was but one thing that seemed likely:  She was plotting to fly from his parents’ house and needed this man’s assistance.

He had seen within a few hours of his return that his mother did not make life sweet to the girl, and yet his father had very possibly opposed her wish to seek another home.  But why should she avoid and hate him?  In that expedition on the river and on their way home he could have sworn that she loved him, and the remembrance of those hours brought her near to him again, and wiped out his schemes of vengeance against her, of punishment to be visited on her.  Then he thought of little Katharina whom his mother intended him to marry, and at the thought he laughed softly to himself.  In the Imperial gardens at Constantinople he had once seen a strange Indian bird, with a tiny body and head and an immensely long tail, shining like silver and mother of pearl.  This was Katharina!  She herself a mere nothing; but then her tail! vast estates and immense sums of money; and this—­this was all his mother saw.  But did he need more than he had?  How rich his father must be to spend so large a sum on an offering to the Church as heedlessly as men give alms to a beggar.

Katharina—­and Paula!

Yes, the little girl was a bright, brisk creature; but then Thomas’ daughter—­what power there was in her eye, what majesty in her gait, how—­how—­how enchanting her—­her voice could be—­her voice. . . .

He was asleep, worn out by heat and fatigue; and in a dream he saw Paula lying on a couch strewn with roses while all about her sounded wonderful heart-ensnaring music; and the couch was not solid but blue water, gently moving:  he went towards her and suddenly a large black eagle swooped down on him, flapped his wings in his face and when, half-blinded, he put his hand to his eyes the bird pecked the roses as a hen picks millet and barley.  Then he was angry, rushed at the eagle, and tried to clutch him with his hands; but his feet seemed rooted to the ground, and the more he struggled to move freely the more firmly he was dragged backwards.  He fought like a madman against the hindering force, and suddenly it released him.  He was still under this impression when he woke, streaming with perspiration, and opened his eyes.  By his couch stood his mother who had laid her hand on his feet to rouse him.

She looked pale and anxious and begged him to come quickly to his father who was much disturbed, and wished to speak with him.  Then she hurried away.