air. A
litter was carried behind him for him to return in, and all the way he
had continued to persuade the youth to induce his father not to fling the
whole treasure into the jaws of the Church, but to spare him a few stones
at least for a more pleasing use. They had laughed over it a good deal,
and Orion in his heart had thought Chrysippus very right, and had
remembered Heliodora, and her love of large, handsome gems, and the
keepsake he owed her. But that neither his father nor his mother would
remove a single stone, and that the whole hanging would be dedicated, was
beyond a doubt; at the same time, some of this superfluous splendor was
in fact his due as their son, and a prettier gift to Heliodora than the
large emerald could not be imagined. Yes--and she should have it! How
delighted she would be! He even thought of the chief idea for the verses
to accompany the gift.

He had the key of the tablinum, in which the work was lying, about his
person; and when, on his return, he found the servants still sitting
round the fire, he shut the door of the out-buildings while a feeling
came over him which he remembered having experienced last on occasions
when he and his brothers had robbed a forbidden fruit-tree. He was on the
point of giving up his mad project; and when, in the tablinum itself, a
horrible inward tremor again came over him he had actually turned to
retreat--but he remembered old Chrysippus and his prompts. To turn and
fly now would be cowardice. Heliodora must have the large emerald, and
with his verses; his father might give away all the rest as he pleased.
When he was kneeling in front of the work with his knife in his hand,
that sickening terror had come over him for the third time; if the large
emerald had not come off into his hand at the first effort he would
certainly have rolled the bale up again and have left the tablinum
clean-handed. But the evil demon had been at his elbow, had thrust the
gem into his hand, as it were, so that two cuts with the knife had
sufficed to displace it from its setting. It rolled into his hand and he
felt its noble weight; he cast aside all care, and had thought no more
with anything but pleasure of this splendid trick, which he would relate
to-morrow to old Chrysippus--of course under seal of secrecy.

But now, in the sober light of day, how different did this mad, rash deed
appear; how heavily had he already been punished; what consequences might
it not entail? His