the first that should be leaving. At least the odious deed should not
have been committed in vain; and yet he would have given a year of his
life if now he could but know that it had never been done.

"Impossible!" and "Curse it!" were the words he had most frequently
repeated in the course of his retrospect during the past night and
morning. How he had had to rush and hurry under the broiling sun! and
the sense of being compelled to do so for mere concealment's sake seemed
to him--who had never in his life before done anything that he could not
justify in the eyes of honest men--so humiliating, that it brought the
sweat to his burning brow. He--Orion--to dread discovery as a thief!
It was inconceivable, and he was afraid, positively afraid for the first
time since his boyhood. His fortunate star, which in the Capital had
shone on him so brightly and benevolently, seemed to have proved
faithless in this ruinous hole! What had that Persian girl taken into
her crazy head that she must rush upon him like some furious beast of
prey? He had been bound to her once, no doubt, by a transient passion--
and what youth of his age was blind to the charms of a pretty slave-girl?
She had been a lovely child, and it was a vexation, nay a grief to him,
that she should have been so shamefully punished. If she should recover,
and he could have prayed that she might, it would of course be his part
to provide for her--of course. To be just, he could not but confess that
she indeed had good reason to hate him: but Paula? He had shown her
nothing but kindness and yet how unhesitatingly, how openly she had
displayed her enmity. He could see her now with the name "murderer" on
her quivering lips; the word had stung him like a lance-thrust. What a
hideous, degrading and unjust accusation lay in that exclamation! Should
he submit to it unrevenged?

Was she as innocent as she was haughty and cold? What was she doing in