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Updated: June 4, 2025
Hypatia watched all this with growing self-satisfaction, and fed herself with the dream that through Philammon she might see her wildest hopes realised.
'Let us talk no more of her, my beloved, said Philammon, laying his hands gently on her trembling shoulders, and looking earnestly into her eyes.... 'Better that we two should work out our deliverance for ourselves, without the help of strangers. You can trust me? 'You? And can you help me? Will you teach me?
Might not the upper one typify Cyril? the lower one Hypatia? and the dead fish between, himself?.... But at last the deadlock was suddenly ended the fish parted in the middle; and the typical Hypatia and Cyril, losing hold of their respective seaweeds by the jerk, tumbled down, each with its half-fish, and vanished head over heels into the blue depths in so undignified a manner, that Philammon burst into a shout of laughter.
Crushed against a pillar, unable to move in the dense mass, he pressed his hands over his ears. He could not shut out those shrieks! When would they end? What in the name of the God of mercy were they doing? Tearing her piecemeal? Yes, and worse than that. And still the shrieks rang on, and still the great Christ looked down on Philammon with that calm, intolerable eye, and would not turn away.
And that second relation, motherly rather than sisterly, had bound Philammon with a golden chain to the wondrous maid of Alexandria.
Philammon saw that it was his only chance, and did so; and in another minute he found himself rushing headlong into the archway of Pelagia's house, with a dozen monks at his heels. As luck would have it, the outer gates, at which the Goths had just entered, were still open; but the inner ones which led into the court beyond were fast. He tried them, but in vain.
And many a warrior did it.... Perhaps I may have done it myself, before now .... And this one is strangely like her. She would make a prince's wife, now. Philammon started. What new feeling was it, which made him indignant at the notion? 'Beauty? What's body without soul? What's beauty without wisdom? What's beauty without chastity? Best! fool! wallowing in the mire which every hog has fouled!
Philammon, flushed with victory, took advantage of the confusion, and before the worthy pair could recover, dealt them half a dozen blows which, luckily for them, came from an unpractised hand, or the young monk might have had more than one life to answer for.
Speak! Thou son of bats and moles thou six feet of sand thou mummy out of the cliff caverns! Can monks do works like these? 'Other men have laboured, and we have entered into their labours, answered Philammon, trying to seem as unconcerned as he could. He was, indeed, too utterly astonished to be angry at anything.
'Let me pass! cried Philammon furiously. 'Raise your voice and I raise mine: and then your life is not worth a moment's purchase. Fool, do you think I speak as a Jewess? I speak as a woman as a nun! I was a nun once, madman the iron entered into my soul! God do so to me, and more also, if it ever enter into another soul while I can prevent it! You shall not have her!
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