curse, in spite of the anguish of her aching heart; and what a weapon
would not that have been in Benjamin's hand. It was with the deepest
pity that he thought of that poor, grief-stricken woman, and the idea
flashed through his mind that the patriarch might have gone back to his
mother to accuse him and to urge her to further revelations.

Many minutes had passed since the patriarch had left him; Orion had
allowed his illustrious guest to depart unescorted, and this could
not fail to excite surprise. Such a breach of good manners, of the
uncodified laws of society, struck Orion, the son of a noble and ancient
house, who had drunk in his regard for them as it were with his mother's
milk, as an indignity to himself; and to repair it he started up, hastily
smoothing down his tumbled hair, and hurried into the viridarium. His
fears were confirmed, for the patriarch's following were standing in the
fountain-hall close to the exit; his mother, too, was there and Benjamin
was in the act of departure.

The old man accepted his offered escort with dignified affability, as if
nothing but what was pleasant had passed between him and Orion. As they
crossed the viridarium he asked his young host what was the name of some
rare flower, and counselled him to take care that shade-giving trees were
planted in abundance on his various estates. In the outer hall, on
either side of the door, was a statue: Truth and justice, two fine works
by Aristeas of Alexandria, who flourished in the time of the Emperor
Hadrian. Justice held the scales and sword, Truth was gazing into her
mirror. As the patriarch approached them, he said to the priest who
walked by his side: "Still here!" Then, standing still, he said, partly
to Orion and partly to his companion:

"Your father, I see, neglected my suggestion that these heathen images