He angrily rejected Pulcheria’s attempts to take her friend’s part, and he trotted home again, mumbling curses between his old lips.

Martina, meanwhile, had made friends with Paula in her genial, frank way.  She had met her parents in time past in Constantinople and spoke of them with heart-felt warmth.  This broke the ice between them, and when Martina spoke of Orion—­her ’great Sesostris’—­of the regard and popularity he had enjoyed in Constantinople, and then, with due recognition and sympathy, of his misfortune, Paula felt drawn towards her indeed.  Her reserve vanished entirely, and the conversation between the new acquaintances became more and more eager, intimate, and delightful.

When they parted both felt that they could only gain by further intercourse.  Paula was called away at the very moment of leave-taking, and left the room with warm expressions intended only for the matron:  “Not good-bye—­we must meet again.  But of course it is my part, as the younger, to go to you!” And she was no sooner gone than Martina exclaimed: 

“What a lovely creature!  The worthy daughter of a noble father!  And her mother!  O dame Joanna!  A sweeter being has rarely graced this miserable world; she was born to die young, she was only made to bloom and fade!” Then, turning to Katharina, she went on:  with kindly reproof.  “Evil tongues gave me a very false idea of this girl.  ’A silver kernel in a golden shell,’ says the proverb, but in this case both alike are of gold.—­Between you two—­good God!—­But I know what has blinded your clear eyes, poor little kitten.  After all, we all see things as we wish to see them.  I would lay a wager, dame Joanna, that you are of my opinion in thinking the fair Paula a perfectly noble creature.  Aye, a noble creature; it is an expressive word and God knows!  How seldom is it a true one?  It is one I am little apt to use, but I know no other for such as she is, and on her it is not ill-bestowed.”

“Indeed it is not!” answered Joanna with warm assent; but Martina sighed, for she was thinking to herself!  “Poor Heliodora!  I cannot but confess that Paula is the only match for my ‘great Sesostris.’  But what in Heaven’s name will become of that poor, unfortunate, love-sick little woman?”

All this flashed through her quick brain while Katharina was trying to justify herself, and asserting that she fully recognised Paula’s great qualities, but that she was proud, fearfully proud—­she had given Martina herself some evidence of that.

At this Pulcheria interposed in zealous defense of her friend.  She, however, had hardly begun to speak when she, too, was interrupted, for men’s voices were heard in loud discussion in the vestibule, and Perpetua suddenly rushed in with a terrified face, exclaiming, heedless of the strangers:  “Oh Dame Joanna!  Here is another, dreadful misfortune!  Those Arab devils have come again, with an interpreter and a writer.  And they have been sent—­Merciful Saviour, is it possible?—­they have brought a warrant to take away my poor dear child, to take her to prison—­to drag her all through the city on foot and throw her into prison.”