Philippus had kept his promise.  He went every day to the house of Rufinus, and every day he saw Paula; but, as a murdered body bleeds afresh in the presence of the assassin, so every day the old pain revived when he was forced to meet her and speak with her.  The only cure for this particular sufferer was to remove the cause of his pain:  that is to say, to take Paula away out of his path; and this the old man made his care and duty.

Little Mary and the other patients under Rufinus’ roof were on the way to recovery; still there was much to cast gloomy shadows over this happy termination.  Joanna and Pulcheria were very anxious as to the fate of Rufinus.  No news had been received of him or of the sisters, and Philippus was the vessel into which the forsaken wife and Pulcheria—­who looked up to him as to a kind, faithful, and all-powerful protecting spirit-poured all their sorrows, cares, and fears.  Their forebodings were aggravated by the fact that three times Arab officials had come to the house to enquire about the master and his continued absence.  All that the women told them was written down, and Dame Joanna, whose lips had never yet uttered a lie, had found herself forced to give a false clue by saying that her husband had gone to Alexandria on business, and might perhaps have to proceed to Syria.—­What could these enquiries forebode?  Did they not indicate that Rufinus’ complicity in the rescue of the nuns was known at Fostat?

The authorities there were, in fact, better informed than the women could suspect.  But they kept their knowledge a secret, for it would never do to let the oppressed people know that a handful of Egyptians had succeeded in defeating a party of Arab soldiers; so the Memphites heard no more than a dark rumor of what had occurred.

Philippus had known nothing of the old man’s purpose till he had gone too far to be dissuaded; and it was misery to him now to reflect that his dear old friend, and his whole household, might come to ruin for the sake of the sisterhood who were nothing to them; for he had received private information that there had been a skirmish between the Moslems and the deliverers of the nuns, which had cost the lives of several combatants on both sides.

And Paula!  If only he could have seen her happy—­But she was pale; and that which robbed the young girl—­healthy as she was in mind and body—­of her proud, frank, independent bearing was not the heat, which tormented all creation, but a secret, devouring sorrow; and this sorrow was the work of one alone—­of him on whom she had set her heart, and who made, ah! what a return, for the royal gift of her love.

Philippus had frequent business at the governor’s residence, and a fortnight since he had plainly perceived what it was that had brought Neforis into this strange state.  She was taking the opium that her husband had had, taking it in excessive quantities; and she could easily procure more through some other physician.  However, her piteous prayer that Philippus would not abandon her to her fate had prevailed to induce him to continue to see her, in the hope of possibly restricting her use of the drug.