succeed in calling them, in asking what had become of her friends, and in
begging them to let her lover know where to seek her.

Her adoptive mother had twice found her at the window and had forbidden
her, not unkindly but very positively, to look out into the street.
Arsinoe had followed her unresistingly into the interior of the house,
but as soon as she knew that Paulina was out or engaged, she slipped back
to the window again and looked out for him, who must at every hour of the
day be thinking of her. And she was not happy amid her new and wealthy
surroundings. At first she had found it very pleasant to stretch her
limbs on Paulina's soft cushions, not to stir a finger to help herself,
to eat the best of food and to have neither to attend to the children nor
to labor in the horrible papyrus-factory; but by the third day she pined
for liberty--and still more for the children, for Selene and Pollux. Once
she went out driving with Paulina in a covered carriage for the first
time in her life. As the horses started she had enjoyed the rapid
movement and had leaned out at one side to see the houses and men flying
past her; but Paulina had regarded this as not correct--as she did so
many other things that she herself thought right and permissible--had
desired her to draw in her head, and had told her that a well-conducted
girl must sit with her eyes in her lap when out driving.

Paulina was kind, never was irritable, had her dressed and waited upon
like her own daughter, kissed her in the morning and when she bid her
good-night; and yet Arsinoe had never once thought of Paulina's demand
that she should love her. The proud woman, who was so cool in all the
friendly relations of life, and who, as she felt was always watching her,
was to her only a stranger who had her in her power. The fairest
sentiments of her soul she must always keep locked up from her.

Once, when Paulina, with tears in her eyes had spoken to her of her lost
daughter, Arsinoe had been softened and following the impulse of her
heart, had confided to her that she loved Pollux the sculptor and hoped
to be his wife.

"You love a maker of images!" Paulina had exclaimed, with as much horror
as if she had seen a toad; then she had paced uneasily up and down and
had added with her usual calm decision:

"No, no, my child! you will forget all this as soon as possible; I know
of a nobler Bridegroom for you; when once you have learned to know Him
you will never