Egypt -- History -- 30 B.C.-640 A.D. -- Fiction; German fiction -- Translations into English; Hadrian, Emperor of Rome, 76-138 -- Fiction
“Why, it burns in the purses of the people in there. It is their duty
to give to the poor, and to tell the truth, their pleasure also; and so
week by week they give me a few drachmae for my suffering brother.”
“Bah! you are the only son of your father, and he is dead.”
“‘All men are brethren’ say the Christians, consequently I may call you
mine without lying.”
“Join them then for aught I care,” laughed the other. “How would it
be if I followed you among the Christians? Perhaps they would give
me weekly money too, for my suffering brother, and then we could have
double meals.”
The cynics laughed loudly and parted; one went back into the city, the
other into the garden belonging to the Christian widow.
Arsinoe had entered here before the dishonest philosopher and had gone
straight to Hannah’s house without being detained by the gate-keeper. As
she got nearer to her destination, she tried more and more earnestly to
devise some way in which she might inform her sister of all the dreadful
things that had happened, and which she must learn sooner or later,
without giving her too great a shock. Her dread was not much less than
her grief. As she reflected on the last few days and on all that had
occurred, it almost seemed as though she herself had been the cause of
the misfortunes of her family.
On the way to see Selene she could shed no tears, but she could not help
softly moaning to herself now and then. A woman, who for some distance
had kept pace with her, thought she must be suffering some severe bodily
pain, and when the girl passed her, she looked after her with sincere
compassion, the wailing of the desolate young creature had sounded so
piteous.
True, midway, Arsinoe had suddenly stopped and had thought that instead
of going to Selene for advice, she would turn round and seek Pollux and
ask him to help her. The thought of her lover forced its way through all
her sorrow and anxiety, through the reproaches she heaped upon herself
and the vague plans floating in the air which her brain--unaccustomed to
any serious thought, vainly tried to sketch for the future. He was kind,
and would certainly be ready to help her; but maidenly modesty held
her back from seeking him at so late an hour; besides, how could she
discover him or his parents?
The place where her sister was she was now familiar with, and no one
could judge of their position better or give sounder counsel than
prudent Selene. So she had not turned round, but had hurried on to reach
her destination as soon as possible; and now she was standing before
the little house in the garden. Before opening the door she once more
considered in what way she could prepare Selene and tell her terrible
news, and, as all that happened stood vividly before her mind’s eye, she
began to weep once more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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