estial ranks of the heroic--to rise to the
immortal gods, to the ineffable powers, onward, upward ever, through
ages and through eternities, till I find my home at last, and vanish in
the glory of the Nameless and the Absolute One!....

And her whole face flashed out into wild glory, and then sank again
suddenly into a shudder of something like fear and disgust, as she saw,
watching her from under the wall of the gardens opposite, a crooked,
withered Jewish crone, dressed out in the most gorgeous and fantastic
style of barbaric finery.

'Why does that old hag haunt me? I see her everywhere--till the last
month at least--and here she is again! I will ask the prefect to find
out who she is, and get rid of her, before she fascinates me with that
evil eye. Thank the gods, there she moves away! Foolish!--foolish of me,
a philosopher. I, to believe, against the authority of Porphyry himself,
too, in evil eyes and magic! But there is my father, pacing up and down
in the library.'

As she spoke, the old man entered from the next room. He was a Greek,
also, but of a more common, and, perhaps, lower type; dark and fiery,
thin and graceful; his delicate figure and cheeks, wasted by meditation,
harmonised well with the staid and simple philosophic cloak which he
wore as a sign of his profession. He paced impatiently up and down the
chamber, while his keen, glittering eyes and restless gestures betokened
intense inward thought.... 'I have it.... No; again it escapes--it
contradicts itself. Miserable man that I am! If there is faith in
Pythagoras, the symbol should be an expanding series of the powers of
three; and yet that accursed binary factor will introduce itself. Did not
you work the sum out once, Hypatia?'

'Sit down, my dear father, and eat. You have tasted no food yet this
day.'

'What do I care for food! The inexpressible must be expressed, the work
must be done if it cost me the squaring of the circle. How can he, whose
sphere lies above the stars, stoop every moment to earth?

'Ay,' she answered, half bitterly, 'and would that we could live without
food, and imitate perfectly the immortal gods. But while we are in this
prison-house of matter, we must wear our chain; even wear it gracefully,
if we have the good taste; and make the base necessities of this body
of shame symbolic of the divine food of the reason. There is fruit, with
lentils and rice, waiting for you in the next room; and bread, unless
you despise it