me." Only look at it!'

Hypatia took the tempting bait, and examined it with more curiosity than
she would have wished to confess; while the old woman went on--

'But the wise lady knows how to use the black agate, of course?
Aben-Ezra told her that, did he not?'

Hypatia blushed somewhat; she was ashamed to confess that Aben-Ezra had
not revealed the secret to her, probably not believing that there was
any, and that the talisman had been to her only a curious plaything,
of which she liked to believe one day that it might possibly have
some occult virtue, and the next day to laugh at the notion as
unphilosophical and barbaric; so she answered, rather severely, that her
secrets were her own property.

'Ah, then! she knows it all--the fortunate lady! And the talisman
has told her whether Heraclian has lost or won Rome by this time, and
whether she is to be the mother of a new dynasty of Ptolemies, or to die
a virgin, which the Four Angels avert! And surely she has had the great
demon come to her already, when she rubbed the flat side, has she not?'

'Go, foolish woman! I am not like you, the dupe of childish
superstitions.'

'Childish superstitions! Ha! ha! ha!'said the old woman, as she turned
to go, with obeisances more lowly than ever. 'And she has not seen the
Angels yet!.... Ah well! perhaps some day, when she wants to know how to
use the talisman, the beautiful lady will condescend to let the poor old
Jewess show her the way.'

And Miriam disappeared down an alley, and plunged into the thickest
shrubberies, while the three dreamers went on their way.

Little thought Hypatia that the moment the old woman had found herself
alone, she had dashed herself down on the turf, rolling and biting at
the leaves like an infuriated wild beast..... 'I will have it yet! I
will have it, if I tear out her heart with it!'

CHAPTER XVI: VENUS AND PALLAS

As Hypatia was passing across to her lecture-room that afternoon, she
was stopped midway by a procession of some twenty Goths and damsels,
headed by Pelagia herself, in all her glory of jewels, shawls, and
snow-white mule; while by her side rode the Amal, his long legs, like
those of Gang-Rolf the Norseman, all but touching the ground, as he
crushed down with his weight a delicate little barb, the best substitute
to be found in Alexandria for the huge black chargers of his native
land.

On they came, followed by a wondering and admiring mob, straight to the
door