morrow, to countermand his mission. He would gladly wait there longer to
afford the old man's granddaughter an opportunity to soften the tidings
of the impending misfortune.

The kind-hearted man's patience, however, was not tested too long; for
when Helena entered the summer-house Didymus had already been informed
of the disaster which threatened him and his family. The philosopher
Euphranor, an elderly member of the Museum, had reached him through the
garden gate, and, spite of Philotas's warning sign, told him what was
occurring. But Didymus knew the old philosopher, who, a recluse from the
world like himself, was devoting the remainder of his life and strength
to the pursuit of science. So he only shook his head incredulously,
pushed back the thin locks of grey hair which hung down on his cheeks
over the barest part of his skull, and exclaimed reproachfully, though as
if the matter under discussion was of the most trivial importance: "What
have you been hearing? We'll see about it!"

He had risen as he spoke, and too abruptly surprised by the news to
remember the sandals on the mat and the upper robe which lay on a chest
of drawers at the end of the room, he was in the act of quitting it, when
his friend, who had silently watched his movements, stopped him, and
Helena entered.

The grey-haired sage turned to her, and, vexed by his friend's doubts,
begged her to convince her grandfather that even matters which do not
please us may nevertheless be of some importance. She did so as
considerately as possible, thinking meanwhile of the architect and his
hopes.

Didymus, with his eyes bent on the ground, shook his grey head again and