"No, no, my child! you will forget all this as soon as possible; I know
of a nobler Bridegroom for you; when once you have learned to know Him
you will never long for any other. Have you seen one single image in
this house?"

"No," replied Arsinoe, "but so far as regards Pollux--"

"Listen to me" said the widow, "have I not told you of our loving Father
in Heaven? Have I not told you that the gods of the heathen are unreal
beings which the vain imaginings of fools have endowed with all the
weaknesses and crimes of humanity? Can you not understand how silly it
is to pray to stones? What power can reside in these frail figures of
brass or marble?

"Idols we call them. He who carves them, serves them and offers sacrifice
to them; aye and a great sacrifice, for he devotes his best powers, to
their service. Do you understand me?"

"No--Art is certainly a lofty thing, and Pollux is a good man, full of
the divinity as he works."

"Wait a while, only wait--you will soon learn to understand," Paulina had
answered, drawing Arsinoe towards her, and had added, at first speaking
gently but then more sternly: "Now go to bed and pray to your gracious
Father in Heaven that he may enlighten your heart. You must forget the
carved image-maker, and I forbid you ever to speak in my presence again
of such a man."

Arsinoe had grown up a heathen, she clung with affection to the gods of
her fathers and hoped for happier days after the first bitterness of the