CHAPTER VII.
Paula went into her nurse's room, and Perpetua, after a short and vainsearch for the crazy girl, abandoned her to her fate, not without somesmall scruples of conscience.
A beautifully-polished copper lamp hung from the ceiling and the littleroom exactly suited its mistress both were neat and clean, trim andspruce, simple and yet nice. Snowy transparent curtains enclosed thebed as a protection against the mosquitoes, a crucifix of delicateworkmanship hung above the head of the couch, and the seats were coveredwith good cloth of various colors, fag-ends from the looms. Pretty strawmats lay on the floor, and pots of plants, filling the little room withfragrance, stood on the window-sill and in a corner of the room where aclay statuette of the Good Shepherd looked down on a praying-desk.
The door had scarcely closed behind them when Perpetua exclaimed: "Butchild, how you frightened me! At so late an hour!"
"I felt I must come," said Paula. "I could contain myself no longer."
"What, tears?" sighed the woman, and her own bright little eyes twinkledthrough moisture. "Poor soul, what has happened now?"
She went up to the young girl to stroke her hair, but Paula rushed intoher arms, clung passionately round her neck, and burst into loud andbitter weeping. The little matron let her weep for a while; then shereleased herself, and wiped away her own tears and those of her talldarling, which had fallen on her smooth grey hair. She took Paula's chinin a firm hand and turned her face towards her own, saying tenderly butdecidedly: "There, that is enough. You might cry and welcome, forit eases the heart, but that it is so late. Is it the old story:home-sickness, annoyances, and so forth, or is there anything new?"
"Alas, indeed!" replied the girl. She pressed her handkerchief inher hands as she went on with excited vehemence: "I am in the lastextremity, I can bear it no longer, I cannot--I cannot! I am no longera child, and when in the evening you dread the night and in the morningdread the day which must be so wretched, so utterly unendurable...."
"Then you listen to reason, my darling, and say to yourself that of twoevils it is wise to choose the lesser. You must hear me say once morewhat I have so often represented to you before now: If we renounce ourcity of refuge here and venture out into the wide world again, whatshall we find that will be an improvement?"
"Perhaps nothing but a hovel by a well under a couple of palm-trees;that would satisfy me, if I only had you and could be free--free fromevery one else!"
"What is this; what does this mean?" muttered the elder woman shakingher head. "You were quite content only the day before yesterday.Something must have...."
"Yes, must have happened and has," interrupted the girl almost besideherself. "My uncle's son.--You were there when he arrived--andI thought, even I firmly believed that he was worthy of such areception.--I--I--pity me, for I... You do not know what influence thatman exercises over hearts.--And I--I believed his eyes, his words, hissongs and--yes, I must confess all--even his kisses on this hand! But itwas all false, all--a lie, a cruel sport with a weak, simple heart, oreven worse--more insulting still! In short, while he was doing all inhis power to entrap me--even the slaves in the barge observed it--he wasin the very act--I heard it from Dame Neforis, who is only too glad whenshe can hurt me--in the very act of suing for the hand of that littledoll--you know her--little Katharina. She is his betrothed; and yetthe shameless wretch dares to carry on his game with me; he has theface...."
Again Paula sobbed aloud; but the older woman did not know how to helpin the matter and could only mutter to herself: "Bad, bad--what, thistoo!--Merciful Heaven!..." But she presently recovered herself and saidfirmly: "This is indeed a new and terrible misfortune; but we have knownworse--much, much worse! So hold up your head, and whatever liking youmay have in your heart for the traitor, tear it out and trample on it.Your pride will help you; and if you have only just found out what mylord Orion is, you may thank God that things had gone no further betweenyou!" Then she repeated to Paula all that she knew of Orion's misconductto the frenzied Mandane, and as Paula gave strong utterance to herindignation, she went on:
"Yes, child, he is a man to break hearts and ruin happiness, and perhapsit was my duty to warn you against him; but as he is not a bad man inother things--he saved the brother of Hathor the designer--you knowher--from drowning, at the risk of his own life--and as I hoped youmight be on friendly terms with him at least, on his return home, Irefrained.... And besides, old fool that I am, I fancied your proudheart wore a breastplate of mail, and after all it is only a foolishgirl's heart like any other, and now in its twenty-first year has givenits love to a man for the first time."
But Paula interrupted her: "I love the traitor no more! No, I hate him,hate him beyond words! And the rest of them! I loathe them all!"
"Alas! that it should be so!" sighed the nurse. "Your lot is no doubt ahard one. He--Orion--of course is out of the question; but I often askmyself whether you might not mend matters with the others. If you hadnot made it too hard for them, child, they must have loved you; theycould not have helped it; but ever since you have been in the house youhave only felt miserable and wished that they would let you go your ownway, and they--well they have done so; and now you find it ill to bearthe lot you chose for yourself. It is so indeed, child, you need notcontradict me. This once we will put the matter plainly: Who can hopeto win love that gives none, but turns away morosely from hisfellow-creatures? If each of us could make his neighbors after his ownpattern--then indeed! But life requires us to take them just as we findthem, and you, sweetheart, have never let this sink into your mind!"
"Well, I am what I am!"
"No doubt, and among the good you are the best--but which of them allcan guess that? Every one to some extent plays a part. And you! Whatwonder if they never see in you anything but that you are unhappy? Godknows it is ten thousand times a pity that you should be! But who cantake pleasure in always seeing a gloomy face?"
"I have never uttered a single word of complaint of my troubles to anyone of them!" cried Paula, drawing herself up proudly.
"That is just the difficulty," replied Perpetua. "They took you in, andthought it gave them a claim on your person and also on your sorrows.Perhaps they longed to comfort you; for, believe me, child, there isa secret pleasure in doing so. Any one who is able to show us sympathyfeels that it does him more good than it does us. I know life! Has itnever occurred to you that you are perhaps depriving your relationsin the great house of a pleasure, perhaps even doing them an injury bylocking up your heart from them? Your grief is the best side of you, andof that you do indeed allow them to catch a glimpse; but where the painis you carefully conceal. Every good man longs to heal a wound when hesees it, but your whole demeanor cries out: 'Stay where you are, andleave me in peace.'--If only you were good to your uncle!"
"But I am, and I have felt prompted a hundred times to confide inhim--but then..."
"Well--then?"
"Only look at him, Betta; see how he lies as cold as marble, rigid andapathetic, half dead and half alive. At first the words often rose to mylips..."
"And now?"
"Now all the worst is so long past; I feel I have forfeited the right tocomplain to him of all that weighs me down."
"Hm," said Perpetua who had no answer ready. "But take heart, my child.Orion has at any rate learnt how far he may venture. You can hold yourhead high enough and look cool enough. Bear all that cannot be mended,and if an inward voice does not deceive me, he whom we seek..."
"That was what brought me here. Are none of our messengers returnedyet?"
"Yes, the little Nabathaean is come," replied her nurse with somehesitation, "and he indeed--but for God's sake, child, form no vainhopes! Hiram came to me soon after sun-down..."
"Betta!" screamed the girl, clinging to her nurse's arm. "What has heheard, what news does he bring?"
"Nothing, nothing! How you rush at conclusions! What he found outis next to nothing. I had only a minute to speak to Hiram. To-morrowmorning he is to bring the man
to me. The only thing he told me..."
"By Christ's Wounds! What was it?"
"He said that the messenger had heard of an elderly recluse, who hadformerly been a great warrior."
"My father, my father!" cried Paula. "Hiram is sitting by the fire withthe others. Fetch him here at once--at once; I command you, Perpetua, doyou hear? Oh best, dearest Betta! Come with me; we will go to him."
"Patience, sweetheart, a little patience!" urged the nurse. "Ah, poordear soul, it will turn out to be nothing again; and if we again followup a false clue it will only lead to fresh disappointment."
"Never mind: you are to come with me."
"To all the servants round the fire, and at this time of night? I shouldthink so indeed!--But do you wait here, child. I know how it can bemanaged.
"I will wake Hiram's Joseph. He sleeps in the stable yonder--and thenhe will fetch his father. Ah! what impatience! What a stormy, passionatelittle heart it is! If I do not do your bidding, I shall have you awakeall night, and wandering about to-morrow as if in a dream.--There, bequiet, be quiet, I am going."
As she spoke she wrapped her kerchief round her head and hurried out;Paula fell on her knees before the crucifix over the bed, and prayedfervently till her nurse returned, Soon after she heard a man's steps onthe stairs and Hiram came in.
He was a powerful man of about fifty, with a pair of honest blue eyes inhis plain face. Any one looking at his broad chest would conclude thatwhen he spoke it would be in a deep bass voice; but Hiram had stammeredfrom his infancy; and from constant companionship with horses he hadaccustomed himself to make a variety of strange, inarticulate noises ina high, shrill voice. Besides, he was always unwilling to speak. Whenhe found himself face to face with the daughter of his master andbenefactor, he knelt at her feet, looked up at her with faithful,dog-like eyes full of affection, and kissed first her dress, and thenher hand which she held out to him. Paula kindly but decidedly cutshort the expressions of delight at seeing her again which he painfullystammered out; and when he at length began to tell his story his wordscame far too slowly for her impatience.
He told her that the Nabathaean who had brought the rumor that hadexcited her hopes, was not unwilling to follow up the trace he hadfound, but he would not wait beyond noon the next day and had tried tobid for high terms.
"He shall have them--as much as he wants!" cried Paula. "But Hiramentreated her, more by looks and vague cries than by articulate words,not to hope for too much. Dusare the Nabathaean--Perpetua now took upthe tale--had heard of a recluse, living at Raithu on the Red Sea, whohad been a great warrior, by birth a Greek, and who for two yearshad been leading a life of penance in great seclusion among the piousbrethren on the sacred Mount of Sinai. The messenger had not been ableto learn what his name in the world had been, but among the hermits hewas known as Paulus."
"Paulus!" interrupted the girl with panting breath. "A name that mustremind him of my mother and of me, yes, of me! And he, the hero ofDamascus, who was called Thomas in the world, believing that I was dead,has no doubt dedicated himself to the service of God and of Christ, andhas taken the name of Paulus, as Saul, the other man of Damascus didafter his con version,--exactly like him! Oh! Betta, Hiram, you willsee: it is he, it must be! How can you doubt it?"
The Syrian shook his head doubtfully and gave vent to a long-drawnwhistle, and Perpetua clasped her hands exclaiming distressfully: "DidI not say so? She takes the fire lighted by shepherds at night to warmtheir hands for the rising sun--the rattle of chariots for the thundersof the Almighty!--Why, how many thousands have called themselves Paulus!By all the Saints, child, I beseech you keep quiet, and do not try toweave a holiday-robe out of airy mist! Be prepared for the worst; thenyou are armed against failure and preserve your right to hope! Tell her,tell her, Hiram, what else the messenger said; it is nothing positive;everything is as uncertain as dust in the breeze."
The freedman then explained that this Nabathaean was a trustworthy man,far better skilled in such errands than himself, for he understood bothSyriac and Egyptian, Greek and Aramaic; and nevertheless he had failedto find out anything more about this hermit Paulus at Tor, wherethe monks of the monastery of the Transfiguration had a colony.Subsequently, however, on the sea voyage to Holzum, he had been informedby some monks that there was a second Sinai. The monastery there--buthere Perpetua again was the speaker, for the hapless stammerer'sbrow was beaded with sweat--the monastery at the foot of the peaked,heaven-kissing mountain, had been closed in consequence of the heresiesof its inhabitants; but in the gorges of these great heights therewere still many recluses, some in a small Coenobium, some in Lauras andseparate caves, and among these perchance Paulus might be found. Thisclue seemed a good one and she and Hiram had already made up their mindsto follow it up; but the warrior monk was very possibly a stranger,and they had thought it would be cruel to expose her to so keen adisappointment.
Here Paula interrupted her, crying in joyful excitement:
"And why should not something besides disappointment be my portion foronce? How could you have the heart to deprive me of the hope on which mypoor heart still feeds?--But I will not be robbed of it. Your Paulusof Sinai is my lost father. I feel it, I know it! If I had not sold mypearls, the Nabathaean.... But as it is. When can you start, my goodHiram?"
"Not before a fort--a fortnight at--at--at--soonest," said the man. "Iam in the governor's service now, and the day after to-morrow is thegreat horse-fair at Niku. The young master wants some stallions boughtand there are our foals to...."
"I will implore my uncle to-morrow, to spare you," cried Paula. "I willgo on my knees to him."
"He will not let him go," said the nurse. "Sebek the steward told himall about it from me before the hour of audience and tried to have Hiramreleased."
"And he said...?"
"The lady Neforis said it was all a mere will-o'-the-wisp, and my lordagreed with her. Then your uncle forbade Sebek to betray the matter toyou, and sent word to me that he would possibly send Hiram to Sinaiwhen the horse-fair was over. So take patience, sweetheart. What are twoweeks, or at most three--and then...."
"But I shall die before then!" cried Paula. "The Nabathaean, you say, ishere and willing to go."
"Yes, Mistress."
"Then we will secure him," said Paula resolutely. Perpetua, however, whomust have discussed the matter fully with her fellow-countryman, shookher head mournfully and said: "He asks too much for us!"
She then explained that the man, being such a good linguist, had alreadybeen offered an engagement to conduct a caravan to Ctesiphon. Thiswould be a year's pay to him, and he was not inclined to break off hisnegotiations with the merchant Hanno and search the deserts of ArabiaPetraea for less than two thousand drachmae.
"Two thousand drachmae!" echoed Paula, looking down in distressand confusion; but she presently looked up and exclaimed with angrydetermination: "How dare they keep from me that which is my own? If myuncle refuses what I have to ask, and will ask, then the inevitable musthappen, though for his sake it will grieve me; I must put my affairs inthe hands of the judges."
"The judges?" Perpetua smiled. "But you cannot lay a complaint withoutyour kyrios, and your uncle is yours. Besides: before they have settledthe matter the messenger may have been to Ctesiphon and back, far as itis."
Again her nurse entreated her to have patience till the horse-fairshould be over. Paula fixed her eyes on the ground. She seemed quitecrushed; but Perpetua started violently and Hiram drew back a step whenshe suddenly broke out in a loud, joyful cry of "Father in Heaven, Ihave what we need!"
"How, child, what?" asked the nurse, pressing her hand to her heart. ButPaula vouchsafed no information; she turned quickly to the Syrian:
"Is the outer court-yard clear yet? Are the people gone?" she asked.
The reply was in the affirmative. The freed servants had retired whenHiram left them. The officials would not break up for some time yet, butthere was less difficulty in passing them.
"Very good," sa
id the girl. "Then you, Hiram, lead the way and wait forme by the little side door. I will give you something in my roomwhich will pay the Nabathaean's charges ten times over. Do not look sohorrified, Betta. I will give him the large emerald out of my mother'snecklace." The woman clasped her hands, and cried out in dismay andwarning.
"Child, child! That splendid gem! an heirloom in the family--that stonewhich came to you from the saintly Emperor Theodosius--to sell that ofall things! Nay-to throw it away; not to rescue your father either,but merely--yes child, for that is the truth, merely because you lackpatience to wait two little weeks!"
"That is hard, that is unjust, Betta," Paula broke in reprovingly. "Itwill be a question of a month, and we all know how much depends onthe messenger. Do you forget how highly Hiram spoke of this very man'sintelligence? And besides--must I, the younger, remind you?--What is thelife of man? An instant may decide his life or death; and my father isan old man, scarred from many wounds even before the siege. It may makejust the difference between our meeting, or never meeting again."
"Yes, yes," said the old woman in subdued tones, "perhaps you are right,and if I..." But Paula stopped her mouth with a kiss, and then desiredHiram to carry the gem, the first thing in the morning, to Gamaliel theJew, a wealthy and honest man, and not to sell it for less than twelvethousand drachmae. If the goldsmith could not pay so much for it atonce, he might be satisfied to bring away the two thousand drachmae forthe messenger, and fetch the remainder at another season.
The Syrian led the way, and when, after a long leave-taking, she quittedher nurse's pleasant little room, Hiram had done her bidding and waswaiting for her at the little side door.