could not see into the cave, for the space in which the bed stood was
closed at the end by the narrow passage which formed the entrance, and
which joined it at an angle as the handle of a scythe joins the blade.
She remained a long time, and he could hear now and then a tender word
with which she tried to comfort the suffering creature. Suddenly he was
startled by a loud and bitter cry from Sirona; no doubt, the poor woman's
affectionate little companion was dead, and in the dim twilight of the
cave she had seen its dulled eye, and felt the stiffness of death
overspreading and paralyzing its slender limbs. He dared not go into the
cavern, but he felt his eyes fill with tears, and he would willingly have
spoken some word of consolation to her.

At last she came out, her eyes red with weeping. Paulus had guessed
rightly for she held the body of little Iambe in her arms.

"How sorry I am," said Paulus, "the poor little creature was so pretty."

Sirona nodded, sat down, and unfastened the prettily embroidered band
from the dog's neck, saying half to herself, and half to Paulus, "My
little Agnes worked this collar. I myself had taught her to sew, and
this was the first piece of work that was all her own." She held the
collar up to the anchorite. "This clasp is of real silver," she went on,
"and my father himself gave it to me. He was fond of the poor little dog
too. Now it will never leap and spring again, poor thing."

She looked sadly down at the dead dog. Then she collected herself, and
said hurriedly, "Now I will go away from here. Nothing--nothing keeps me
any longer in this wilderness, for the senator's house, where I have
spent many happy hours, and where everyone was fond of me, is closed
against me, and must ever be so long as he lives there. If you have not