"Poor man!" sighed the Arab. "And has he no child left?"

"Oh, yes. One son, and the widow of his eldest. She went into a convent
after her husband's death, but she left her child, her little Mary--she
must be ten years old now--to live with her grandparents."

"That is well," said the old man, "that will bring some sunshine into the
house."

"No doubt, Master. And just lately they have had some cause for
rejoicing. The only surviving son--Orion is his name--came home only
the day before yesterday from Constantinople where he has been for a long
time. There was a to-do! Half the city went crazy. Thousands went out
to meet him, as though he were the Saviour; they erected triumphal
arches, even folks of my creed--no one thought of hanging back. One and
all wanted to see the son of the great Mukaukas, and the women of course
were first and foremost!"

"You speak, however," said the Arab, "as though the returning hero were
not worthy of so much honor."

"That is as folks think," replied the Egyptian shrugging his shoulders.
"At any rate he is the only son of the greatest man in the land."

"But he does not promise to be like the old man?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," said the guide. "My brother, a priest, and the head
of one of our great schools, was his tutor, and he never met such a
clever head as Orion's, he tells me. He learnt everything without any
trouble and at the same time worked as hard as a poor man's son. We may