The Sisters | Page 7

to herself: "I give up everything to
her and what I have left she takes from me. Three times have I met the
Roman, yesterday he gave me the violets, and I did want to keep those
for myself--and now--" As she spoke she clasped the bowl she still held
in her hand closely to her and her lips trembled pitifully, but only for an
instant; she drew herself up and said firmly: "But it is all as it should
be."
Then she was silent; she set down the water-jar on the chest by her side,
passed the back of her hand across her forehead as if her head were
aching, then, as she sat gazing down dreamily into her lap, her weary

head presently fell on her shoulder and she was asleep.

CHAPTER II.
The low brick building of which the sisters' room formed a part, was
called the Pastophorium, and it was occupied also by other persons
attached to the service of the temple, and by numbers of pilgrims.
These assembled here from all parts of Egypt, and were glad to pass a
night under the protection of the sanctuary.
Irene, when she quitted her sister, went past many doors--which had
been thrown open after sunrise--hastily returning the greetings of many
strange as well as familiar faces, for all glanced after her kindly as
though to see her thus early were an omen of happy augury, and she
soon reached an outbuilding adjoining the northern end of the
Pastophorium; here there was no door, but at the level of about a man's
height from the ground there were six unclosed windows opening on
the road. From the first of these the pale and much wrinkled face of an
old man looked down on the girl as she approached. She shouted up to
him in cheerful accents the greeting familiar to the Hellenes "Rejoice!"
But he, without moving his lips, gravely and significantly signed to her
with his lean hand and with a glance from his small, fixed and
expressionless eyes that she should wait, and then handed out to her a
wooden trencher on which lay a few dates and half a cake of bread.
"For the altar of the god?" asked the girl. The old man nodded assent,
and Irene went on with her small load, with the assurance of a person
who knows exactly what is required of her; but after going a few steps
and before she had reached the last of the six windows she paused, for
she plainly heard voices and steps, and presently, at the end of the
Pastophorium towards which she was proceeding and which opened
into a small grove of acacias dedicated to Serapis--which was of much
greater extent outside the enclosing wall--appeared a little group of
men whose appearance attracted her attention; but she was afraid to go
on towards the strangers, so, leaning close up to the wall of the houses,
she awaited their departure, listening the while to what they were

saying.
In front of these early visitors to the temple walked a man with a long
staff in his right hand speaking to the two gentlemen who followed,
with the air of a professional guide, who is accustomed to talk as if he
were reading to his audience out of an invisible book, and whom the
hearers are unwilling to interrupt with questions, because they know
that his knowledge scarcely extends beyond exactly what he says. Of
his two remarkable-looking hearers one was wrapped in a long and
splendid robe and wore a rich display of gold chains and rings, while
the other wore nothing over his short chiton but a Roman toga thrown
over his left shoulder.
His richly attired companion was an old man with a full and beardless
face and thin grizzled hair. Irene gazed at him with admiration and
astonishment, but when she had feasted her eyes on the stuffs and
ornaments he wore, she fixed them with much greater interest and
attention on the tall and youthful figure at his side.
"Like Hui, the cook's fat poodle, beside a young lion," thought she to
herself, as she noted the bustling step of the one and the independent
and elastic gait of the other. She felt irresistibly tempted to mimic the
older man, but this audacious impulse was soon quelled for scarcely
had the guide explained to the Roman that it was here that those pious
recluses had their cells who served the god in voluntary captivity, as
being consecrated to Serapis, and that they received their food through
those windows--here he pointed upwards with his staff when suddenly
a shutter, which the cicerone of this ill-matched pair had touched with
his stick, flew open with as much force and haste as if