trange and weighty thoughts were stirring in her soul.
One thing was clear to her: Eulaeus--her father's ruthless foe and
destroyer--was now also working the fall of the child of the man he
had ruined, and, though she knew it not, the high-priest shared her
suspicions. She, Klea, was by no means minded to let this happen without
an effort at defence, and it even became clearer and clearer to her mind
that it was her duty to act, and without delay. In the first instance
she would ask counsel of her friend Serapion; but as she approached his
cell the gong was sounded which summoned the priests to service, and at
the same time warned her of her duty of fetching water.

Mechanically, and still thinking of nothing but Irene's deliverance, she
fulfilled the task which she was accustomed to perform every day at the
sound of this brazen clang, and went to her room to fetch the golden
jars of the god.

As she entered the empty room her cat sprang to meet her with two leaps
of joy, putting up her back, rubbing her soft head against her feet with
her fine bushy tail ringed with black stripes set up straight, as
cats are wont only when they are pleased. Klea was about to stroke the
coaxing animal, but it sprang back, stared at her shyly, and, as she
could not help thinking, angrily with its green eyes, and then shrank
back into the corner close to Irene's couch.

"She mistook me!" thought Klea. "Irene is more lovable than I even to a
beast, and Irene, Irene--" She sighed deeply at the name, and would have
sunk down on her trunk there to consider of new ways and means--all of
which however she was forced to reject as foolish and impracticable--but
on the chest lay a little shirt she had begun to make for little
Philo, and this reminded her again of the sick child and of the duty of
fetching the water.

Without further delay she took up the jars, and as she went towards the
well she remembered the last precepts that had been given her by her
father, whom she had once been permitted to visit in prison. Only a few
detached sentences of this, his last warning speech, now came into
her mind, though no word of it had escaped her memory; it ran much as
follows:

"It may seem as though I had met with an evil recompense from the gods
for my conduct in adhering to what I think just and virtuous; but it
only seems so, and so long as I succeed in living in accordance with
nature, which obeys an everlasting law, no man is justified in accus