only one who looked behind him and observed it.

The bride's attendants had by this time taken their station on the
pontoon; here came another band of youths with panther skins on their
shoulders; and now--at last, at last--a car came swaying along, drawn by
eight coal-black oxen dressed with green ostrich-feathers and water-
plants.

The car was shaded by a tall canopy, supported by four poles, against
which leaned four men in the robes of the heathen priesthood; this awning
was lavishly decorated with wreaths of lotos and reeds, and fenced about
with papyrus, bulrushes, tall grasses and blossoming river-weeds.
Beneath it sat the queen of the festival--the Bride of the Nile.

Robed in white and closely veiled, she was quite motionless. Her long,
thick brown hair fell over her shoulders; at her feet lay a wreath, and
rare rose-colored lotos-flowers were strewn on the car.

The bishop had been sitting at her side, the first Christian priest,
certainly, of all the swarms of monks and ecclesiastics in Memphis, who
had ever appeared at such a scene of heathen abomination. He was now
standing, looking down at the crowd with a deeply knit brow and menacing
gaze. What good had come of the penitential sermons in all the churches,
of his and his vicar's warnings and threats? In spite of all
remonstrance he had mounted the car with the condemned victim,
after administering the last consolations to her soul. It might
cost him his life, but he would keep his promise.

In her hand Paula held two roses: one was Orion's last greeting delivered
by Martina; the other Pulcheria had brought her early in the morning.