"Is it something different?" Sergius asked.
"Ay—as light and darkness are different."
"Be quick then."
Sergius was standing under the lintel of the door. Demedes slipped past him, and on the outside stopped.
"You are going to Therapia?" he asked.
"Yes."
"The Princess of India will be there. She has already set out."
"How knowest thou?"
"She is always under my eyes."
The mockery in the answer reminded Sergius of the Academy. The prodigal was designing to impress him with an illustration of the Principle it had adopted in lieu of God. The motto, he was having it thus early understood, was not an empty formula, but an inspiring symbol, like the Cross on the flag. This votary, the advertisement as much as said, was in pursuit of the little Princess—he had chosen her for his next offering to the Principle which, like another God, was insatiable of gifts, sacrifices, and honors. Such the thoughts of the monk.