“O man, and child of man, great Sesostris!  How did your famous ancestor ever achieve heroic deeds under such a sun as this?  For my part I am fast disappearing, melting away like butter; but what will a man not do for love’s sake?—­Syra, Syra; for God’s sake bring me something, however small, that looks like a garment!  How rational is the fashion of the people of Africa whom we met with on our journey.  If they have three fingers’ breadth of cloth about them, they consider themselves elegantly dressed.—­But come, sit down—­there, at my feet.  A seat, Argos, and some wine, and water in a damp clay pitcher, and cool like the last.  Husband, the boy seems to me handsomer than ever.  But dear God! he is in mourning, and how becoming it is!  Poor boy, poor boy!  Yes, we heard in Alexandria.”

She wiped first her eyes and then her damp brow, and her husband added his expressions of sympathy at the death of the Mukaukas.

They were a genial and comfortable couple, Justinus and his wife Martina.  Two beings who felt perfectly secure in their vast inherited wealth, and who, both being of noble birth, never need make any display of dignity, because they were sure of it in the eyes of high and low alike.  They had asserted their right to remain natural and human under the formalities of the most elaborately ceremonious society; those who did not like the easy tone adopted by them in their house might stay away.  He, devoid of ambition, a senator in virtue of his possessions and his name, never caring to make any use of his adventitious dignity but that of procuring good appointments for his favorite clients, or good places for his family on any festive occasion, was a hospitable soul; the good friend of all his friends, whose motto was “live and let live.”  Martina, with a heart as good as gold, had never made any pretensions to beauty, but had nevertheless been much courted.  This worthy couple had for many years thought that nothing could be more delightful than a residence in the capital, or at their beautiful villa on the Bosphorus, scorning to follow the example of other rich and fashionable folks, and go to take baths or make journeys.  It was enough for them to be able to make others happy under their roof; and there was never any lack of visitors, just because those who were weary of bending their backs at the Byzantine Court, found this unceremonious circle particularly restful.

Martina was especially fond of having young people about her, and Heliodora, the widow of her nephew, had found comfort with her in her trouble; it was in her house that Orion and Heliodora had met.  The young widow was a great favorite with the old couple, but higher in their esteem even than she, had been the younger brother of her deceased husband.  He was to have been their heir; but they had mourned his death now two years; for news had reached them that Narses, who had served in the Imperial army as tribune of cavalry, had fallen in battle against the