Remember Julian!' Hypatia's arms dropped suddenly.

Yes; it was true! The thought flashed across her mind with mingled delight and terror....

Visions of her childhood rose swift and thick--temples--sacrifices--priesthoods-- colleges--museums! What might she not do?
What might she not make Africa?
Give her ten years of power, and the hated name of Christian might be forgotten, and Athene Polias, colossal in ivory and gold, watching in calm triumph over the harbours of a heathen Alexandria....
But the price! And she hid her face in her hands, and bursting into bitter tears, walked slowly away into her own chamber, her whole body convulsed with the internal struggle.
The old man looked after her, anxiously and perplexed, and then followed, hesitating.

She was sitting at the table, her face buried in her hands.

He did not dare to disturb her.