Philippus, who was pacing at his side, by lightly patting his arm,
exclaiming with unwonted vivacity: "A man should be ready to try
everything--the care of women even, before he steps into the grave.
And is it a fact that neither of them is a scold or a chatter-box?"

"It is indeed."

"And what 'if' or 'but' remains behind?" asked the old man. "Let
us be reckless for once, brother! If the whole business were not so
diabolically serious, it would be quite laughable. The young one for me
and the old one for you in our leisure hours, my son; better washed
linen; clothes without holes in them; no dust on our books; a pleasant
'Rejoice' every morning, or at meal-times;--only look at the fruit on
that dish! No better than the oats they strew before horses. At the old
man's everything was as nice as it used to be in my own home at Philae:
Supper a little work of art, a feast for the eye as well as the appetite!
Pulcheria seems to understand all that as well as my poor dead sister
did. And then, when I want to rise, such a kind, pretty little hand to
help one up! I have long hated this dwelling. Lime and dust fall from
the ceiling in my bedroom, and here there are wide gaps in the flooring-
I stumbled over one yesterday--and our niggardly landlords, the
officials, say that if we want anything repaired we may do it ourselves,
that they have no money left for such things. Now, under that worthy old
man's roof everything was in the best order." The philosopher chuckled
aloud and rubbed his hands as he went on: "Supposing we kick over the
traces for once, Philip. Supposing we were to carry out our friend's
dying wish? Merciful Isis! It would certainly be a good action, and I
have not many to boast of. But cautiously--what do you say? We can
always throw it up at a month's notice."