Years passed away, and the little flower grew up and bloomed in the cool shade of the cloister, and her mother had rejoined Antigonus in bliss, when the emperor wrote to Euphrasia to order her instantly to return to Constantinople and marry the young man to whom he had betrothed her. She was of imperial blood, and Theodosius considered that, on the death of her mother, the charge of Euphrasia, who was now an heiress and very wealthy, devolved on him. She replied, imploring him to allow her to follow her vocation, and requested him to dispose of all her property for the benefit of the poor. Euphrasia was then aged twelve. Theodosius, satisfied that she was in earnest, obeyed her request, and troubled her no more about the marriage. But now arrived a critical time of life, when youthful spirits and passions were in effervesence, and she was cruelly tormented with vain imaginations and temptations to go forth into that wondrous world of which she knew so little, but which, clothed in the rainbow tints of infantine remembrance, allured her fancy. To divert her attention, and at the same time to prove her obedience, the superior one day pointed to a great heap of stones, and bade her carry them to the top of a little sand hill, some distance off. Euphrasia obeyed cheerfully, toiling at removing the stones under the hot sun, one by one, to the place indicated. Then she came joyously to the superior, and signified to her that the task was accomplished. "Bring them all back again," said the mother superior. And the young nun hasted to obey. Next day she presented herself before the superior once more. "I have changed my mind," said the mother; "take the stones back again to the top of the mound." And thirty times did she make Euphrasia carry them back; and each time was she obeyed with cheerfulness.