By some miracle his mother had not yet told the prelate of his father’s curse, in spite of the anguish of her aching heart; and what a weapon would not that have been in Benjamin’s hand.  It was with the deepest pity that he thought of that poor, grief-stricken woman, and the idea flashed through his mind that the patriarch might have gone back to his mother to accuse him and to urge her to further revelations.

Many minutes had passed since the patriarch had left him; Orion had allowed his illustrious guest to depart unescorted, and this could not fail to excite surprise.  Such a breach of good manners, of the uncodified laws of society, struck Orion, the son of a noble and ancient house, who had drunk in his regard for them as it were with his mother’s milk, as an indignity to himself; and to repair it he started up, hastily smoothing down his tumbled hair, and hurried into the viridarium.  His fears were confirmed, for the patriarch’s following were standing in the fountain-hall close to the exit; his mother, too, was there and Benjamin was in the act of departure.

The old man accepted his offered escort with dignified affability, as if nothing but what was pleasant had passed between him and Orion.  As they crossed the viridarium he asked his young host what was the name of some rare flower, and counselled him to take care that shade-giving trees were planted in abundance on his various estates.  In the outer hall, on either side of the door, was a statue:  Truth and justice, two fine works by Aristeas of Alexandria, who flourished in the time of the Emperor Hadrian.  Justice held the scales and sword, Truth was gazing into her mirror.  As the patriarch approached them, he said to the priest who walked by his side:  “Still here!” Then, standing still, he said, partly to Orion and partly to his companion: 

“Your father, I see, neglected my suggestion that these heathen images had no place in any Christian house, and least of all in one attached, as this is, to a public function.  We, no doubt, know the meaning of the symbols they bear; but how easily might the ordinary man, waiting here, mistake the figure with the mirror for Vanity and that with the scales Venality:  ‘Pay us what we ask,’ she might be saying, ’or else your life is a forfeit,’—­so the sword would imply.”

He smiled and walked on, but added airily to Orion: 

“When I come again—­you know—­I shall be pleased if my eye is no longer offended by these mementos of an extinct idolatry.”

“Truth and justice!” replied Orion in a constrained voice.  “They have dwelt on this spot and ruled in this house for nearly five hundred years.”

“It would look better, and be more suitable,” retorted the patriarch, “if you could say that of Him to whom alone the place of honor is due in a Christian house; in His presence every virtue flourishes of itself.  The Christian should proscribe every image from his dwelling; at the door of his heart only should he raise an image on the one hand of Faith and on the other of Humility.”