‘Do I not? Where did you and I meet last?’
Philammon blushed and burst forth again. ‘That was enough for me. I know the hatred which they bear her, the crimes which they attribute to her. Her house would have been attacked last night had it not been for Cyril.... And I knew Peter’s tone. He spoke too gently and softly not to mean something devilish. I watched all the morning for an opportunity of escape, and here I am!—Will you take my message, or see her—’
‘What?’
‘God only knows, and the devil whom they worship instead of God.’
Raphael hurried back into the house—‘Could he see Hypatia?’ She had shut herself up in her private room, strictly commanding that no visitor should be admitted.... ‘Where was Theon, then?’ He had gone out by the canal gate half an hour before, with a bundle of mathematical papers under his arm, no one knew whither.... ‘Imbecile old idiot!’ and he hastily wrote on his tablet— ‘Do not despise the young monk’s warning. I believe him to speak the truth. As you love yourself and your father, Hypatia, stir not out to-day.’
He bribed a maid to take the message upstairs; and passed his time in the hall in warning the servants. But they would not believe him. It was true the shops were shut in some quarters, and the Museum gardens empty; people were a little frightened after yesterday. But Cyril, they had heard for certain, had threatened excommunication only last night to any Christian who broke the peace; and there had not been a monk to be seen in the streets the whole morning. And as for any harm happening to their mistress—impossible! ‘The very wild beasts would not tear her,’ said the huge negro porter, ‘if she was thrown into the amphitheatre.’
—Whereat a maid boxed his ears for talking of such a thing; and then, by way of mending it, declared that she knew for certain that her mistress could turn aside the lightning, and call legions of spirits to fight for her with a nod.... What was to be done with such idolaters? And yet who could help liking them the better for it?
At last the answer came down, in the old graceful, studied, self-conscious handwriting.
‘It is a strange way of persuading me to your new faith, to bid me beware, on the very first day of your preaching, of the wickedness of those who believe it. I thank you: but your affection for me makes you timorous. I dread nothing. They will not dare. Did they dare now, they would have dared long ago. As for that youth—to obey or to believe his word, even to seem aware of his existence, were shame to me henceforth. Because he is insolent enough to warn me therefore I will go. Fear not for me. You would not wish me, for the first time in my life, to fear for myself. I must follow my destiny. I must speak the words which I have to speak. Above all, I must let no Christian say, that the philosopher dared less than the fanatic. If my Gods are Gods, then will they protect me: and if not, let your God prove His rule as seems to Him good.’
Raphael tore the letter to fragments.... The guards, at least, were not gone mad like the rest of the world. It wanted half an hour of the time of her lecture. In the interval he might summon force enough to crush all Alexandria. And turning suddenly, he darted out of the room and out of the house.