"Iambe is not devoid of reason," replied Sirona. "And even if she were,
what have I left if she dies? She grew up in my father's house, where
all loved me; I had her first when she was only a few days old, and I
brought her up on milk on a little bit of sponge. Many a time, when I
heard the little thing whining for food, have I got out of bed at night
with bare feet; and so she came to cling to me like a child, and could
not do without me. No one can know how another feels about such things.
My father used to tell us of a spider that beautified the life of a
prisoner, and what is a dirty dumb creature like that to my clever,
graceful little dog! I have lost my home, and here every one believes
the worst of me, although I have done no one any harm, and no one, no one
loves me but Iambe."

"But I know of one who loves every one with a divine and equal love,"
interrupted Paulus.

"I do not care for such a one," answered Sirona. "Iambe follows no one
but me; what good can a love do me that I must share with all the world!
But you mean the crucified God of the Christians? He is good and
pitiful, so says Dame Dorothea; but he is dead--I cannot see him, nor
hear him, and, certainly, I cannot long for one who only shows me grace.
I want one to whom I can count for something, and to whose life and
happiness I am indispensable."

A scarcely perceptible shudder thrilled through the Alexandrian as she
spoke these words, and he thought, as he glanced at her face and figure
with a mingled expression of regret and admiration, "Satan, before he
fell, was the fairest among the pure spirits, and he still has power over
this woman. She is still far from being ripe for salvation, and yet she