. Who ever knew one of them crave
after knowledge for its own sake?.... And I have longed so for one
real pupil! I have longed so to find one such man, among the effeminate
selfish triflers who pretend to listen to me. I thought I had found
one--and the moment that I had lost him, behold, I find another; and
that a fresher, purer, simpler nature than ever Raphael's was at its
best. By all the laws of physiognomy--by all the symbolism of gesture
and voice and complexion--by the instinct of my own heart, that young
monk might be the instrument, the ready, valiant, obedient instrument,
for carrying out all my dreams. If I could but train him into a
Longinus, I could dare to play the part of a Zenobia, with him as
counseller.... And for my Odenatus--Orestes? Horrible!'

She covered her face with her hand a minute. 'No!' she said, dashing
away the tears--'That--and anything--and everything for the cause of
Philosophy and the gods!'

CHAPTER XI: THE LAURA AGAIN

Not a sound, not a moving object, broke the utter stillness of the glen
of Scetis. The shadows of the crags, though paling every moment before
the spreading dawn, still shrouded all the gorge in gloom. A winding
line of haze slept above the course of the rivulet. The plumes of the
palm-trees hung motionless, as if awaiting in resignation the breathless
blaze of the approaching day. At length, among the green ridges of the
monastery garden, two gray figures rose from their knees, and began,
with slow and feeble strokes, to break the silence by the clatter of
their hoes among the pebbles.

'These beans grow wonderfully, brother Aufugus. We shall be able to
sow our second crop, by God's blessing, a week earlier than we did last
year.'

The person addressed returned no answer; and his companion, after
watching him for some time in silence, recommenced--

'What is it, my brother? I have remarked lately a melancholy about you,
which is hardly fitting for a man of God.'

A deep sigh was the only answer. The speaker laid down his hoe, and
placing his hand affectionately on the shoulder of Aufugus, asked
again--

'What is it, my friend? I will not claim with you my abbot's right to
know the secrets of your heart: but surely that breast hides nothing
which is unworthy to be spoken to me, however unworthy I may be to hear
it!'

'Why should I not be sad, Pambo, my friend? Does not Solomon say that
there is a time for mourning?'

'True: but a time for mirth als