‘What did I say to thee in the garden? Go, and see our son, and send me news of him.’
‘Ah! shame on my worldly-mindedness! I had forgotten all this time to inquire for him. How is the youth, reverend sir?’
‘Whom do you mean?’
‘Philammon, our spiritual son, whom we sent down to you three months ago,’ said Pambo. ‘Risen to honour he is, by this time, I doubt not?’
‘He? He is gone!’
‘Gone?’
‘Ay, the wretch, with the curse of Judas on him. He had not been with us three days before he beat me openly in the patriarch’s court, cast off the Christian faith, and fled away to the heathen woman, Hypatia, of whom he is enamoured.’
The two old men looked at each other with blank and horror-stricken faces.
‘Enamoured of Hypatia?’ said Arsenius at last.
‘It is impossible!’ sobbed Pambo. ‘The boy must have been treated harshly, unjustly? Some one has wronged him, and he was accustomed only to kindness, and could not bear it. Cruel men that you are, and unfaithful stewards. The Lord will require the child’s blood at your hands!’