“Thus every one was out of the way who could make any mischief; and when the Syrian, dressed as a Christian priest, had explained to Agatha what the patriarch required of his maidens, I led her on to the stage, on which the spectators were to see the ghosts through a small opening.

“The Syrian had desired her to put up so many and such prayers for the congregation in its peril from Caesar; and, by Aphrodite! she was as docile as a lamb.  She fell on her knees, and with hands and eyes to heaven entreated her god.  But hark!

“Did you hear anything?  Something is stirring within.  Well, I have nearly done.

“The philosopher was to see her thus, and when he had gazed at her as if bewitched for some little time through the small window, he suddenly cried out, ‘Korinna!  Korinna!’ and all sorts of nonsense, although Serapion had strictly forbidden him to utter a sound.  Of course, the curtain instantly dropped.  But Agatha had heard him call, and in a great fright she wanted to know where she was, and asked to go home.—­Serapion was really grand.  You should have heard how the fox soothed the dove, and at the same time whispered to me what you now are to do!”

“I?” said the woman, with some annoyance.  “If he thinks that I will risk my good name in the congregation for the sake of his long beard—­”

“Just be quiet,” said Castor, in a pacifying tone.  “The master’s beard has nothing to do with the case, but something much more substantial.  Ten solidi, full weight, shall be yours if you will take Agatha home with you, or safe across the lake again, and pretend to have saved her from mystics or magicians who have decoyed her to some evil end.  She knows you as a Christian deaconess, and will go with you at once.  If you restore her to her father, he is rich, and will not send you empty away.  Tell him that you heard her voice out in the street, and with the help of a worthy old man—­that am I—­rescued her from any peril you may invent.  If he asks you where the heroic deed was done, name any house you please, only not this.  Your best plan is to lay it all on the shoulders of Hananja, the thaumaturgist; we have owed him a grudge this many a day.  However, I was not to teach you any lesson, for your wits are at least a match for ours.”

“Flattery will not win me,” the woman broke in.  “Where is the gold?”

Castor handed her the solidi wrapped in a papyrus leaf, and then added: 

“Stay one moment!  I must remove this white robe.  The girl must on no account recognize me.  I am going to force my way into the house with you—­you found me in the street, an old man, a total stranger, and appealed to me for help.  No harm is done, nothing lost but Dorothea’s credit among the Christians.  We may have to get her safe out of the town.  I must escort you and Agatha, for nothing unpleasant must happen to her on the way home.  The master is imperative on that point, and so much beauty will certainly not get through the crowded streets without remark.  And for my part, I, of course, am thinking of yours.”