in doors. In front of the house
Porphyrius and Karnis were standing in eager colloquy. The news that
Marcus' mother Mary had sent for Herse had reached the singer, and his
vivid fancy painted his wife as surrounded by a thousand perils,
threatened by the widow, and carried before the judges. The merchant
advised him to wait and see what came of it, as did Damia and Gorgo who
were attracted to the spot by the vehemence of the discussion; but Karnis
would not be detained, and he and Orpheus hurried off to the rescue. Thus
Agne was left alone in the garden with her little brother, and perceiving
that no one paid any further attention to their proceedings, she fell on
her knees, clasped the child closely to her and whispered:

"Pray with me, Papias; pray, pray that the Lord will protect us, and that
we may not be turned out of the way that leads us to our parents! Pray,
as I do!"

For a minute she remained prostrate with the child by her side. Then,
rising quickly, she took him by the hand and led him in almost breathless
haste through the garden-gate out into the road, bending her steps
towards the lake and then down the first turning that led to the city.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

People who have nothing to do always lack time
Perish all those who do not think as we do
Reason is a feeble weapon in contending with a woman
Words that sounded kindly, but with a cold, unloving heart

SERAPIS

By Georg Ebers

Volume 3.

CHAPTER XI.

Agne's flight remained unperceived for some little time, for every member
of the merchant's household was at the moment intent on some personal
interest. When Karnis and Orpheus had set out Gorgo was left with her
grandmother and it was not till some little time after that she went out
into the colonnade on the garden side of the house, whence she had a view
over the park and the shore as far as the ship-yard. There, leaning
against the shaft of a pillar, under the shade of the blossoming shrubs,
she stood gazing thoughtfully to the southward.

She was dreaming of the past, of her childhood's joys and privations.
Fate had bereft her of a mother's love, that sun of life's spring. Below
her, in a splendid mausoleum of purple porphyry, lay the mortal remains
of the beautiful woman who had given her birth, and who had been snatched
away before she could give her infant a first caress. But all round the
solemn monument gardens bloomed in the sunsh