shrewd, plain-spoken man--often indeed sharp and abrupt in his freedom--
and he appreciated her bright, natural ways. Now and then Martina even
succeeded in winning a smile from "Hermes Trismegistus," who was
"generally as solemn as though there was no such thing on earth as a
jest," and in spurring him to a rejoinder which showed that this dolorous
being had a particularly keen and ready wit.

Heliodora attracted him but little. There was, to be sure, an
unmistakable likeness in her "imploring eves" to those of Pulcheria; but
the girl's spoke fervent yearning for the grace and love of God, while
the widow's expressed an eager desire for the admiration of the men she
preferred. She was a graceful creature beyond all question, but such
softness, which never even attempted to assert a purpose or an opinion,
did not commend itself to his determined nature; it annoyed him, when
he had contradicted her, to hear her repeat his last statement and take
his side, as if she were ashamed of her own silliness. Her society,
indeed, did not seem to satisfy the clever older woman, who at home, was
accustomed to a succession of visitors, and to whom the word "evening"
was synomynous with lively conversation and a large gathering. She spoke
of the leech's visits as the oasis in the Egyptian desert, and little
Katharina even she regarded as a Godsend.

The water-wagtail was her daily visitant, and the girl's gay and often
spiteful gossip helped to beguile her during this terrific heat.
Katharina's mother made no difficulties; for Heliodora had gone to see
her in all her magnificence, and had offered her and her daughter
hospitality, some day, at Constantinople. They were very likely going
thither; at any rate they would not remain in Memphis, and then it would
be a piece of good fortune to be introduced to the society of the capital
by such people as their new acquaintances.