elf-respect-my just
pride? Would it save my cheek from blushes every time I recollected that
I bore the hateful and degrading name of wife?--The property, the puppet
of a man--submitting to his pleasure--bearing his children--wearing
myself out with all the nauseous cares of wifehood--no longer able to
glory in myself, pure and self-sustained, but forced by day and night
to recollect that my very beauty is no longer the sacrament of Athene's
love for me, but the plaything of a man;--and such a man as that!
Luxurious, frivolous, heartless--courting my society, as he has done for
years, only to pick up and turn to his own base earthly uses the scraps
which fall from the festal table of the gods! I have encouraged him too
much--vain fool that I have been! No, I wrong myself! It was only--I
thought--I thought that by his being seen at our doors, the cause of
the immortal gods would gain honour and strength in the eyes of the
multitude.... I have tried to feed the altars of heaven with earthly
fuel.... And this is my just reward! I will write to him this
moment,--return by the fitting messenger which he has sent, insult for
insult!'

'In the name of Heaven, my daughter!--for your father's sake!--for my
sake! Hypatia!--my pride, my joy, my only hope!--have pity on my gray
hairs!'

And the poor old man flung himself at her feet, and clasped her knees
imploringly.

Tenderly she lifted him up, and wound her long arms round him, and laid
his head on her white shoulder, and her tears fell fast upon his gray
hair; but her lip was firm and determined.

'Think of my pride--my glory in your glory; think of me.... Not for
myself! You know I never cared for myself!' sobbed out the old man. 'But
to die seeing you empress!'

'Unless I died first in childbed, father, as many a woman dies who
is weak enough to become a slave, and submit to tortures only fit for
slaves.'

'But--but--said the old man, racking his bewildered brains for some
argument far enough removed from nature and common sense to have an
effect on the beautiful fanatic--'but the cause of the gods! What you
might do for it!.... Remember Julian!'

Hypatia's arms dropped suddenly. Yes; it was true! The thought flashed
across her mind with mingled delight and terror.... Visions of her
childhood rose swift and thick--temples--sacrifices--priesthoods--
colleges--museums! What might she not do? What might she not make
Africa? Give her ten years of power, and the hated na