Hypatia took the wafers, hesitating—
‘But what are they?’
‘And you profess to explain Homer? Whom did I hear the other morning lecturing away so glibly on the nepenthe which Helen gave the heroes, to fill them with the spirit of joy and love; how it was an allegory of the inward inspiration which flows from spiritual beauty, and all that?—pretty enough, fair lady; but the question still remains, what was it? and I say it was this. Take it and try; and then confess, that while you can talk about Helen, I can act her; and know a little more about Homer than you do, after all.’
‘I cannot believe you! Give me some sign of your power, or how can I trust you?’
‘A sign?—A sign? Kneel down then there, with your face toward the north; you are over tall for the poor old cripple.’
‘I? I never knelt to human being.’
‘Then consider that you kneel to the handsome idol there, if you will—but kneel!’
And, constrained by that glittering eye, Hypatia knelt before her.
‘Have you faith? Have you desire? Will you submit? Will you obey? Self-will and pride see nothing, know nothing. If you do not give up yourself, neither God nor devil will care to approach. Do you submit?’
‘I do! I do!’ cried poor Hypatia, in an agony of curiosity and self-distrust, while she felt her eye quailing and her limbs loosening more and more every moment under that intolerable fascination.