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Updated: June 1, 2025
The company on the roof made haste to descend, to witness the family's humiliating exit. As Athribis passed by the box again, he looked more curiously at it. Surely the scrolls must be of some worth. He could not read, but perhaps something of value might be secretly hidden inside each of these scrolls. Who knew? It must be!
However, there was no choice, and she succeeded in proving that she had never quitted Memphis nor the house of Rufinus at the time when the Arab warriors met their death between Athribis and Doomiat.
How worn he was! And that brand upon his cheek! Athribis bent forward. Timokles' eyes were opening. "Athribis!" exclaimed Timokles faintly, as, after a prolonged gaze, he recognized the slave. "Ah, my Christian master! My Christian master!" jeered Athribis, "I see you once again. My Christian master!" The hands of the unseen Heraklas clinched at that tone. Timokles looked around, bewildered.
However, there was no choice, and she succeeded in proving that she had never quitted Memphis nor the house of Rufinus at the time when the Arab warriors met their death between Athribis and Doomiat.
With his bare, silent feet, Athribis sped through the shadows of the corridors to what he thought a secret spot, and hid himself. The house resounded with outcries. Feet ran hither and thither. It was night on the Libyan desert.
"What is the writing, that he hideth it there?" the slave questioned himself. Heraklas continued to read. Stretched on his perch, and straining his neck to look, Athribis deemed the time long. His prying eyes noted carefully the distance of the loose brick from the floor. Athribis did not recognize the papyrus as one that he had seen before.
A small boat belonging to the large ship lay floating in the water, but connected with the ship by a rope. Athribis dared not tarry longer. He hastened home again. Closer than ever, as he went his morning round of duties, did Athribis watch, but Heraklas was invisible. "He is not at home. He went away three hours ago," cautiously signaled the slave of the threshold to Athribis.
Athribis longed to have time to unroll the scrolls which he had hidden in his garment, but he dared not look at them till he should be alone. A voice sounded in the court. Athribis redoubled his zeal: He recognized the tones of Heraklas' mother. "I was not long gone! I was not long gone!" the guilty Athribis hastily assured himself. "Surely she hath hated the Christians, even as I hate them!
And he must stay here, polishing a corridor's pavement, when such things, were being done in the streets! His dark eyes glanced back again. Heraklas' head was bowed. Stealthily Athribis passed out of sight of the court. He threaded his way through corridors. "Whither goest thou?" asked another slave by the threshold.
"My daughter," she said, "take to Thais those things which are needful for her bread, water, and a flute with three holes." Paphnutius had returned to the holy desert. He took, near Athribis, the boat which went up the Nile to carry food to the monastery of Abbot Serapion. When he disembarked, his disciples advanced to meet him with great demonstrations of joy.
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