the Senator Justinus' fair
relation.--But nonsense! You can hardly suppose that that volatile Greek
girl...."

Orion clasped her in his arms, and said tenderly, "No, dearest mother,
no. Constantinople lies far, far behind me, in grey mist beyond the
farthest Thule; and here, close here, under my father's roof, I have
found something far more lovely and more perfect than has ever been
beheld by the dwellers on the Bosphorus. That little girl is no
match for a son of our stalwart and broad-shouldered race. Our future
generations must still tower proudly above the common herd in every
respect; I want no plaything for a wife, but a woman, such as you
yourself were in youth--tall, dignified and handsome. My heart goes
forth to no gold-crested wren but to a really royal maiden.--Of what use
to waste words! Paula, the noble daughter of a glorious father, is my
choice. It came upon me just now like a revelation; I ask your blessing
on my union with her!"

So far had Neforis allowed her son to speak. He had frankly and
boldly uttered what she had indeed feared to hear. And so long she had
succeeded in keeping silence!--But now her patience gave way. Trembling
with anger she abruptly broke in, exclaiming, as her face grew crimson:

"No more, no more! Heaven grant that this which I have been compelled
to hear may be no more than a fleeting and foolish whim! Have you
quite forgotten who and what we are? Have you forgotten that those were
Melchites who slew your two dear brothers--our two noble sons? Of what
account are we among the orthodox Greeks? While among the Egyptians and
all who confess the saving doctrine of Eutyches, among the Monophysites
we are the chief, and we will remain so, and close our ears and hearts
against all heretics and their superstitions. What! A grandson of
Menas, the brother of two martyrs for our glorious faith, married to
a Melchite! The mere idea is sacrilege, is blasphemy; I can give it no
milder name! I and your father will die childless before we consent! And
it is for the love of this woman, whose heart is so cold that I shiver
only to think of it--for this waif and stray, who has nothing but her
ragged pride and the mere scrapings of a lost fortune, which never could
compare with ours--for this thankless creature, who can hardly bring
herself to bid me, your mother, such a civil good-morning--by Heaven it
is the truth--as I can say to a slave--for her that I, that your parents
are to be bereft