seven times a prefect?'

At this juncture Philammon, thinking perhaps that he had already
heard too much, notified his presence by some slight noise, at which
the secretary, as he seemed to be, hastily lifted the curtain, and
somewhat sharply demanded his business. The names of Pambo and
Arsenius, however, seemed to pacify him at once; and the trembling
youth was ushered into the presence of him who in reality, though
not in name, sat on the throne of the Pharaohs.

Not, indeed, in their outward pomp; the furniture of the chamber was
but a grade above that of the artisan's; the dress of the great man
was coarse and simple; if personal vanity peeped out anywhere, it
was in the careful arrangement of the bushy beard, and of the few
curling locks which the tonsure had spared. But the height and
majesty of his figure, the stern and massive beauty of his features,
the flashing eye, curling lip, and projecting brow--all marked him
as one born to command. As the youth entered, Cyril stopped short
in his walk, and looking him through and through, with a glance
which burnt upon his cheeks like fire, and made him all but wish the
kindly earth would open and hide him, took the letters, read them,
and then began--

'Philammon. A Greek. You are said to have learned to obey. If so
you have also learned to rule. Your father-abbot has transferred
you to my tutelage. You are now to obey me.'

'And I will.'

'Well said. Go to that window, then, and leap into the court.'