‘Cyril will hear of it anyhow: that’s another dilemma into which you have brought me, you intriguing rascal! Why, this girl will be boasting all over Alexandria that I have offered her marriage, and that she has done herself the honour to refuse me!’
‘She will be much too wise to do anything of the kind; she has sense enough to know that if she did so, you would inform a Christian populace what conditions she offered you, and, with all her contempt for the burden of the flesh, she has no mind to be lightened of that pretty load by being torn in pieces by Christian monks; a very probable ending for her in any case, as she herself, in her melancholy moods, confesses!’
‘Simply nothing. Let the prophetic spirit go out of her, as it will, in a day or two, and then--I know nothing of human nature, if she does not bate a little of her own price. Depend on it, for all her ineffabilities, and impassibilities, and all the rest of the seventh-heaven moonshine at which we play here in Alexandria, a throne is far too pretty a bait for even Hypatia the pythoness to refuse. Leave well alone is a good rule, but leave ill alone is a better. So now another bet before we part, and this time three to one. Do nothing either way, and she sends to you of her own accord before a month is out. In Caucasian mules? Done? Be it so.’
‘Well, you are the most charming counsellor for a poor perplexed devil of a prefect! If I had but a private fortune like you, I could just take the money, and let the work do itself.’
‘Which is the true method of successful government. Your slave bids you farewell. Do not forget our bet. You dine with me to-morrow?’
As he left the prefect’s door, he saw Miriam on the opposite side of the street, evidently watching for him. As soon as she saw him, she held on her own side, without appearing to notice him, till he turned a corner, and then crossing, caught him eagerly by the arm.
‘You know what I mean. Do you suppose old Miriam carries letters without taking care to know what is inside them? Will he apostatise? Tell me. I am secret as the grave!’
‘The fool has found an old worm-eaten rag of conscience somewhere in the corner of his heart, and dare not.’
‘Curse the coward! And such a plot as I had laid! I would have swept every Christian dog out of Africa within the year. What is the man afraid of?’