It was growing dusk. Philippus must now be with Mary and, with the
leech's aid, he was resolved to get the child away from his mother's
house. Not till he felt that she was safe with Paula in Rufinus' house,
could he be free to attempt the enterprise which floated before his eyes.
On the stairs he shouted to a slave:

"My chariot with the Persian trotting horse!" and a few minutes after he
entered the little girl's room at the same time with a slave girl who
carried in a lamp. Neither Mary nor the physician observed him at first,
and he heard her say to Philippus, who sat holding her wrist between his
fingers.

"What is the matter with you this evening? Good heavens, how pale and
melancholy you look!" The lamplight fell full on his face. "Look here,
I have just made such a smart little man out of wax. . ."

She hoped to amuse the friend who was always so kind to her with this
comical work of art; but, as she leaned forward to reach it, she caught
sight of her uncle and exclaimed: "Philippus comes here to cure me, but
he looks as if he wanted a draught himself. Take care, or you will have
to drink that bitter brown stuff you sent yesterday; then you will know
for once how nasty it can be." Though the child's exclamation was well-
meant, neither of the men took any notice of it. They stood face to face
in utter silence and with only a formal greeting; for Orion, without
Mary's remark, had been struck by the change that had come over the
physician since yesterday. Ignoring Orion's presence, he asked the child
a few brief questions, begged Eudoxia to persevere in the same course of
treatment, and then hastily bid a general farewell to all present; Orion,
however, did not respond, but said, with an affectionate glance at the