CHAPTER XIV.
Dido was right. Heron's eldest son had returned from his errand. Tired,disappointed, and with fierce indignation in his eyes, he staggeredin like a drunken man who has been insulted in his cups; and, withoutgreeting her--as his mother had taught her children to greet even theirslaves--he merely asked in hoarse tones, "Is Melissa come in?"
"Yes, yes," replied Dido, laying her finger to her lips. "You roused herfrom a nap. And what a state you are in! You must not let her see youso! It is very clear what news you bring. The prefect will not help us?"
"Help us!" echoed Philip, wrathfully. "In Alexandria a man may drownrather than another will risk wetting his feet."
"Nay, it is not so bad as that," said the old woman. "Alexander himselfhas burned his fingers for others many a time. Wait a minute. I willfetch you a draught of wine. There is some still in the kitchen; for ifyou appear before your sister in that plight--"
But Melissa had recognized her brother's voice, and, although Philip hadsmoothed his hair a little with his hands, one glance at his face showedher that his efforts had been vain.
"Poor boy!" she said, when, in answer to her question as to what hisnews was, he had answered gloomily, "As bad as possible."
She took his hand and led him into the work-room. There she reminded himthat she was giving him a new brother in Diodoros; and he embraced herfondly, and wished her and her betrothed every happiness. She thankedhim out of a full heart, while he swallowed his wine, and then shebegged him to tell her all he had done.
He began, and, as she gazed at him, it struck her how little heresembled his father and brother, though he was no less tall, and hishead was shaped like theirs. But his frame, instead of showing theirstalwart build, was lean and weakly. His spine did not seem strongenough for his long body, and he never held himself upright. His headwas always bent forward, as if he were watching or seeking something;and even when he had seated himself in his father's place at thework-table to tell his tale, his hands and feet, even the muscles of hiswell-formed but colorless face, were in constant movement. He would jumpup, or throw back his head to shake his long hair off his face, and hisfine, large, dark eyes glowed with wrathful fires.
"I received my first repulse from the prefect," he began, and as hespoke, his arms, on whose graceful use the Greeks so strongly insisted,flew up in the air as though by their own impulse rather than by thespeaker's will.
"Titianus affects the philosopher, because when he was young--long ago,that is very certain--his feet trod the Stoa."
"Your master, Xanthos, said that he was a very sound philosopher,"Melissa put in.
"Such praise is to be had cheap," said Philip, "by the most influentialman in the town. But his methods are old-fashioned. He crawls afterZeno; he submits to authority, and requires more independent spirits todo the same. To him the divinity is the Great First Cause. In this worldof ours he can discern the working of a purposeful will, and confuseshis mind with windy, worn-out ideals. Virtue, he says--but to what endrepeat such stale old stuff?"
"We have no time for it," said Melissa, who saw that Philip was on thepoint of losing himself in a philosophical dissertation, for he hadbegun to enjoy the sound of his own voice, which was, in fact, unusuallymusical.
"Why not?" he exclaimed, shrugging his shoulders, and with a bittersmile. "When he has shot away all his arrows, the bowman may rest; and,as you will soon hear, our quiver is empty--as empty as this cup which Ihave drained."
"No, no!" exclaimed Melissa, eagerly. "If this first attempt has failed,that is the very reason for planning another. I, too, can use figures ofspeech. The archer who is really eager to hit the object on which he hasspent his arrows, does not retire from the fight, but fetches more; andif he can find none, he fights with his bow, or falls on the enemy withstones, fists, and teeth."
Philip looked at her in astonishment, and exclaimed in pleased surprise,without any of the supercilious scorn which he commonly infused into histone when addressing his humble sister:
"Listen to our little girl! Where did those gentle eyes get thatdetermined flash? From misfortune--from misfortune! They rob the gentledove of her young--I mean her splendid Alexander--and lo, she becomesa valiant falcon! I expected to find you a heart-broken lamb, over yourtear-stained stitching, and behold it is you who try to fire me. Well,then, tell me what arrows we have left, when you have heard me out. But,before I proceed, is Argutis at home again? No? He must go across again,to take various things to Alexander--linen, garments, and the like. Imet Glaukias the sculptor, and he begged me not to forget it; for heknows where the lad is hidden, and was on the point of going over tosee him. The man had made himself perfectly unrecognizable. He is a truefriend, if such a thing there be! And how grieved he was to hear of myfather's ill fortune! I believe he is envious of Diodoros."
Melissa shook a finger at him; but she turned pale, and curiouslyinquired whether her brother had remembered to warn Glaukias on noaccount to tell Alexander that it was in his power to release hisfather.
Philip struck his brow, and, with a helpless fall of the mouth, whichwas usually so firmly set and ready to sneer, he exclaimed, like a boycaught in mischief: "That, that--I can not imagine how I forgot it, butI did not mention it. What strange absence of mind! But I can remedy itat once on the spot. Argutis--nay, I will go myself."
He sprang up, and was on the point of carrying out his sudden purpose,but Melissa detained him. With a decisiveness which again amazed him,she desired him to remain; and while he paced the workroom with rapidstrides, heaping abuse on himself, now striking his breast, and nowpushing his fingers through his disordered hair, she made it clear tohim that he could not reach Alexander in time to prevent his knowingall, and that the only result of his visit would be to put the watch onthe track. Instead of raving and lamenting, he would do better to tellher whither he had been.
First, he hastily began, he had gone to the prefect Titianus, who wasan elderly man of a noble family, many of whose members had ere nowoccupied the official residence of the prefect in Alexandria, and inother towns of Egypt. He had often met Philip at the disputations hewas wont to attend in the Museum, and had a great regard for him. Butof late Titianus had been out of health, and had kept his house. Hehad undergone some serious operation shortly before Caesar's arrival atAlexandria had been announced, and this had made it impossible for himto be present at the grand reception, or even to pay his respects toCaracalla.
When Philip had sent in his name, Titianus had been very ready toreceive him; but while the philosopher was still waiting in theanteroom, wondering to find it so empty--for it was usually crowded withthe clients, petitioners, and friends of the most important man inthe province--a bustle had arisen behind him, and a tall man had beenushered in past him, whom he recognized as the senator on whose armCaracalla had leaned in the morning. This was the actor, whom the priestof Serapis had pointed out to Melissa as one of Caesar's most powerfulfavorites. From being a mere dancer he had risen in the course of a fewyears to the highest dignities. His name was Theocritus, and although hewas distinguished by great personal beauty and exceptional cleverness,his unbridled greed had made him hated, and he had proved equallyincompetent as a statesman and a general.
As this man marched through the anteroom, he had glanced haughtily abouthim, and the look of contempt which fell on the philosopher probablyreflected on the small number of persons present, for at that hour theanterooms of Romans of rank were commonly thronged. Most visitors hadbeen dismissed, by reason of the prefect's illness, and many of theacquaintances and supplicants who were generally to be found here wereassembled in the imperial quarters, or in the rooms of the praetorianprefect and other powerful dignitaries in Caracalla's train. Titianushad failed to be present at the emperor's arrival, and keen courtiernoses smelled a fall, and judged it wise to keep out of the way of atottering power.
Besides all this, the prefect's honesty was well known, and it wasstrongly suspected that he, as steward of all the taxes of thi
s wealthyprovince, had been bold enough to reject a proposal made by Theocritusto embezzle the whole freight of a fleet loaded with corn for Rome, andcharge it to the account of army munitions. It was a fact that this baseproposal had been made and rejected only the evening before, and thescene of which Philip became the witness was the result of this refusal.
Theocritus, to whom an audience was always indispensable, carefullyleft the curtains apart which divided the prefect's sick-room fromthe antechamber, and thus Philip was witness of the proceedings he nowdescribed to his sister.
Titianus received his visitor, lying down, and yet his demeanor revealedthe self-possessed dignity of a high-born Roman, and the calm of a Stoicphilosopher. He listened unmoved to the courtier, who, after the usualformal greetings, took upon himself to overwhelm the older man with thebitterest accusations and reproaches. People allowed themselves totake strange liberties with Caesar in this town, Theocritus burst out;insolent jests passed from lip to lip. An epigram against his sacredperson had found its way into the Serapeum, his present residence--aninsult worthy of any punishment, even of death and crucifixion.
When the prefect, with evident annoyance, but still quite calmly,desired to know what this extraordinary insult might be, Theocritusshowed that even in his high position he had preserved the accuratememory of the mime, and, half angry, but yet anxious to give full effectto the lines by voice and gesture, he explained that "some wretch hadfastened a rope to one of the doors of the sanctuary, and had writtenbelow it the blasphemous words:
'Hail! For so welcome a guest never came to the sovereign of Hades. Who ever peopled his realm, Caesar, more freely than thou? Laurels refuse to grow green in the darksome abode of Serapis; Take, then, this rope for a gift, never more richly deserved.'"
"It is disgraceful!" exclaimed the prefect.
"Your indignation is well founded. But the biting tongue of thefrivolous mixed races dwelling in this city is well known. They havetried it on me; and if, in this instance, any one is to blame, it is notI, the imprisoned prefect, but the chief and captain of the night-watch,whose business it is to guard Caesar's residence more strictly."
At this Theocritus was furious, and poured out a flood of words,expatiating on the duties of a prefect as Caesar's representative inthe provinces. "His eye must be as omniscient as that of the all-seeingDeity. The better he knew the uproarious rabble over whom he ruled,the more evidently was it his duty to watch over Caesar's person asanxiously as a mother over her child, as a miser over his treasure."
The high-sounding words flowed with dramatic emphasis, the sentimentalspeaker adding to their impressiveness by the action of his hands, tillit was more than the invalid could bear. With a pinched smile, he raisedhimself with difficulty, and interrupted Theocritus with the impatientexclamation, "Still the actor!"
"Yes, still!" retorted the favorite, in a hard voice. "You, however,have been even longer--what you have, indeed, been too long--Prefectof Egypt!" With an angry fling he threw the corner of his toga over hisshoulder, and, though his hand shook with rage, the pliant drapery fellin graceful folds over his athletic limbs. He turned his back on theprefect, and, with the air of a general who has just been crowned withlaurels, he stalked through the anteroom and past Philip once more.
The philosopher had told his sister all this in a few sentences. He nowpaused in his walk to and fro to answer Melissa's question as to whetherthis upstart's influence were really great enough to turn so noble andworthy a man out of his office.
"Can you ask?" said Philip. "Titianus had no doubts from the first;and what I heard in the Serapeum--but all in good time. The prefect wassorry for my father and Alexander, but ended by saying that hehimself needed an intercessor; for, if it were not to-day, at anyrate to-morrow, the actor would inveigle Caesar into signing hisdeath-warrant."
"Impossible!" cried the girl, spreading out her hands in horror; butPhilip dropped into a seat, saying:
"Listen to the end. There was evidently nothing to be hoped for fromTitianus. He is, no doubt, a brave man, but there is a touch of theactor in him too. He is a Stoic; and where would be the point of that,if a man could not appear to look on approaching death as calmly as ontaking a bath?
"Titianus plays his part well. However, I next went to the Serapeum--itis a long way, and it was very hot in the sun--to ask for help from myold patron, the high-priest. Caesar is now his guest; and the prefect,too, had advised me to place my father's cause in his hands."
Here Philip sprang up again, and rushed up and down, sometimes stoppingfor a moment in front of his sister while he went on with his story.
Theocritus had long since reached the Serapeum in his swift chariot whenthe philosopher at last arrived there on foot. He was well known as afrequent visitor, and was shown at once into the hall of that part ofhis abode which Timotheus had reserved for himself when he had given upall the best rooms to his imperial visitor.
The anteroom was crowded, and before he got any farther he heard thatthe favorite's accusations had already led to serious results, andrumors were rife concerning the luckless witticisms of some heedlessyouth, which would bring grief upon the peaceable citizens. But beforehe could ask what was meant, he was admitted to the high-priest's room.
This was a marked favor on such a day as this, and the benevolence withwhich he was received by the head of the priesthood of the whole cityfilled him with good hopes of a successful issue. But hardly had Philipbegun to speak of his brother's misdemeanor, than Timotheus laid hishand on his bearded lips, as a hint to be cautious, and whispered in hisear, "Speak quickly and low, if you love your life!"
When Philip had hastily explained that Zminis had imprisoned his father,the old man started to his feet with a promptitude to which his majesticperson was unaccustomed, and pointed to a curtained doorway on one sideof the room.
"Through that door," he whispered, "you will reach the western steps,and the passage leading out of the precincts to the stadium. You areknown to the Romans in the anteroom. It is not the god to whom thisbuilding is dedicated who now rules within these walls. Your brother'srash words are repeated everywhere, and have even come to Caesar'sknowledge; and he has been told that it was the same traitor--who hasfor the moment escaped Zminis and his men--who nailed a rope on one ofour doors, and with it an audacious inscription. To speak a single wordin behalf of Alexander or your father would be to fling myself into thefire without putting it out. You do not know how fiercely it is burning.Theocritus is feeding the flame, for he needs it to destroy the prefect.Now, not another word; and, come what may, so long as the Roman visitorsdwell under this roof, beware of it!"
And the high-priest opened the door with his own hand.
"I hurried home," Philip added, "and if I forgot, in my dismay at thisfresh disaster, to warn Glaukias to be careful--But, no, no! It isunpardonable!--Alexander is by this time crossing the lake, perhaps. Iam like Caracalla--my brother's murderer!"
But Melissa laid her arm on his shoulder and besought the poor fellowto be comforted; and her loving words of excuse seemed to have some goodeffect. But why was he always so reserved? Why could not Philip be asfrank with her as Alexander was? She had never been very near to him;and now he was concealing from her something which moved him deeply.
She turned away sadly, for she could not even comfort him. But thenagain Philip sighed from the bottom of his heart, and she could containher self no longer. More tenderly than she had ever addressed himbefore, she besought her brother to open his heart to her. She wouldgladly help him to endure what oppressed him; and she could understand,for she herself had learned what the joys and sorrows of love were.
She had found the right clew. Philip nodded, and answered gloomily:
"Well, then, listen. It may do me good to speak." And thereupon he beganto tell her what she had already heard from Alexander; and, covering hertingling cheeks with her hands, she listened with breathless attention,not missing a word, though the question rose to her mind again and againwhether sh
e should tell him the whole truth, which he as yet could notknow, or whether it would be better to spare his already burdened soul.
He described his love in glowing colors. Korinna's heart, he said, musthave gone forth to him; for, at their last meeting on the northern shoreof the lake, her hand had rested in his while he helped her out of theboat; he could still feel the touch of her fingers. Nor had the meetingbeen pure accident, for he had since seen and recognized the presence onearth of her departed soul in her apparently living form. And she, too,with the subtle senses of a disembodied spirit, must have had a yearningtowards him, for she had perceived all the depth and fervor of hispassion. Alexander had given him this certainty; for when he had seenKorinna by the lake, her soul had long since abandoned its earthlytenement. Before that, her mortal part was already beyond his reach; andyet he was happy, for the spirit was not lost to him. Only last nightmagic forces had brought her before him--his father, too, had beenpresent, and no deception was possible. He had gone to bed in rapturousexcitement, full of delicious hopes, and Korinna had at once appearedto him in a dream, so lovely, so kind, and at the same time so subtle avision, ready to follow him in his thoughts and strivings. But just ashe had heard a full assurance of her love from her own lips, and wasasking her by what name he should call her when the craving to see heragain should wax strong in him, old Dido had waked him, to cast him outof elysium into the deepest earthly woes.
But, he added--and he drew himself up proudly--he should soon possessthe Magian's art, for there was no kind of learning he could not master;even as a boy he had proved that to his teachers. He, whose knowledgehad but yesterday culminated in the assurance that it was impossible toknow anything, could now assert with positive conviction, that the humansoul could exist apart from the matter it had animated. He had thusgained that fixed footing outside the earth which Archimedes haddemanded to enable him to move it; and he should soon be able to exerthis power over departed souls, whose nature he now understood as wellas--ay, and better than--Serapion. Korinna's obedient spirit would helphim, and when once he should succeed in commanding the souls of thedead, as their master, and in keeping them at hand among the living, anew era of happiness would begin, not only for him and his father, butfor every one who had lost one dear to him by death.
But here Melissa interrupted his eager and confident speech. She hadlistened with increasing uneasiness to the youth who, as she knew, hadbeen cheated. At first she thought it would be cruel to destroy hisbright illusions. He should at least in this be happy, till the anguishof having thoughtlessly betrayed his brother to ruin should be a thingof the past! But when she perceived that he purposed involving hisfather in the Magian's snares by calling up his mother's Manes, shecould no longer be silent, and she broke out with indignant warning:"Leave my father alone, Philip! For all you saw at the Magian's was meretrickery."
"Gently, child," said the philosopher, in a superior tone. "I was ofexactly the same opinion till after sundown yesterday. You know that thetendency of the school of philosophy to which I belong insists, aboveall, on a suspension of judgment; but if there is one thing which may beasserted with any dogmatic certainty--"
But Melissa would hear no more. She briefly but clearly explained to himwho the maiden was whose hand he had held by the lake, and whom he hadseen again at Serapion's house; and as she went on his interruptionsbecame fewer. She did her utmost, with growing zeal, to destroy hisluckless dream; but when the blood faded altogether from his colorlesscheeks, and he clasped his hand over his brow as if to control somephysical suffering, she recovered her self-command; the beautiful fearof a woman's heart of ever giving useless pain, made her withhold fromPhilip what remained to be told of Agatha's meeting with Alexander.
But, without this further revelation, Philip sat staring at the groundas if he were overwhelmed; and what hurt him so deeply was less thepainful sense of having been cheated by such coarse cunning, thanthe annihilation of the treasured hopes which he had founded on theexperiences of the past night. He felt as though a brutal foot hadtrampled down the promise of future joys on which he had counted; hissister's revelations had spoiled not merely his life on earth, but alleternity beyond the grave. Where hope ends despair steps in; and Philip,with reckless vehemence, flung himself, as it were, into its arms. Hiswas an excitable nature; he had never thought of any one but himself,but labored with egotistical zeal to cultivate his own mind and outdohis fellows in the competition for learning. The sullen words in whichhe called himself the most wretched man on earth, and the victim of theblackest ill-fortune, fell from his lips like stones. He rudely repelledhis sister's encouraging words, like a sick child whose pain is thegreater for being pitied, till at last she appealed to his sense ofduty, reminding him that something must be done to rescue her father andAlexander.
"They also! They also!" he cried. "It falls on us all. Blind Fate drivesus all, innocent as we are, to death and despair, like the Tantalides.What sin have you committed, gentle, patient child; or our father, orour happy-hearted and gifted brother; or I--I myself? Have those whomwe call the rulers of the universe the right to punish me because I makeuse of the inquiring spirit they have bestowed on me? Ah, and how wellthey know how to torture us! They hate me for my learning, and so theyturn my little errors to account to allow me to be cheated like a fool!They are said to be just, and they behave like a father who disinheritshis son because, as a man, he notes his parent's weakness. With tearsand anguish have I striven for truth and knowledge. There is not aprovince of thought whose deepest depths I have not tried to fathom;and when I recognized that it is not given to mortals to apprehend theessence of the divinity because the organs bestowed on us are too smalland feeble; when I refused to pronounce whether that which I can notapprehend exists or not, was that my fault, or theirs? There may bedivine forces which created and govern the universe; but never talk tome of their goodness, and reasonableness, and care for human creatures!Can a reasonable being, who cares for the happiness of another, strewthe place assigned to him to dwell in with snares and traps, or implantin his breast a hundred impulses of which the gratification only dragshim into an abyss? Is that Being my friend, who suffers me to be bornand to grow up, and leaves me tied to the martyr's stake, with very fewreal joys, and finally kills me, innocent or guilty, as surely as I amborn? If the divinity which is supposed to bestow on us a portion of thedivine essence in the form of reason were constituted as the crowdare taught to believe, there could be nothing on earth but wisdom andgoodness; but the majority are fools or wicked, and the good are liketall trees, which the lightning blasts rather than the creeping weed.Titianus falls before the dancer Theocritus, the noble Papinian beforethe murderer Caracalla, our splendid Alexander before such a wretch asZminis; and divine reason lets it all happen, and allows human reasonto proclaim the law. Happiness is for fools and knaves; for thosewho cherish and uphold reason--ay, reason, which is a part of thedivinity--persecution, misery, and despair."
"Have done!" Melissa exclaimed. "Have the judgments of the immortals notfallen hardly enough on us? Would you provoke them to discharge theirfury in some more dreadful manner?"
At this the skeptic struck his breast with defiant pride, exclaiming:"I do not fear them, and dare to proclaim openly the conclusions ofmy thoughts. There are no gods! There is no rational guidance of theuniverse. It has arisen self-evolved, by chance; and if a god createdit, he laid down eternal laws and has left them to govern its coursewithout mercy or grace, and without troubling himself about the pulingof men who creep about on the face of the earth like the ants on that ofa pumpkin. And well for us that it should be so! Better a thousand timesis it to be the servant of an iron law, than the slave of a capriciousmaster who takes a malignant and envious pleasure in destroying thebest!"
"And this, you say, is the final outcome of your thoughts?" askedMelissa, shaking her head sadly. "Do you not perceive that such anoutbreak of mad despair is simply unworthy of your own wisdom, ofwhich the end and aim should be a passionless, calm,
and immovablemoderation?"
"And do they show such moderation," Philip gasped out, "who pour thepoison of misfortune in floods on one tortured heart?"
"Then you can accuse those whose existence you disbelieve in?" retortedMelissa with angry zeal. "Is this your much-belauded logic? What becomesof your dogmas, in the face of the first misfortune--dogmas which enjoina reserve of decisive judgment, that you may preserve your equanimity,and not overburden your soul, in addition to the misfortune itself, withthe conviction that something monstrous has befallen you? I remember howmuch that pleased me the first time I heard it. For your own sake--forthe sake of us all--cease this foolish raving, and do not merely callyourself a skeptic--be one; control the passion that is rending you. Forlove of me--for love of us all--"
And as she spoke she laid her hand on his shoulder, for he had sat downagain; and although he pushed her away with some petulance, she went onin a tone of gentle entreaty: "If we are not to be altogether too latein the field, let us consider the situation calmly. I am but a girl, andthis fresh disaster will fall more hardly on me than on you; for whatwould become of me without my father?"
"Life with him has at any rate taught you patient endurance," herbrother broke in with a sullen shrug.
"Yes, life," she replied, firmly: "life, which shows us the right waybetter than all your books. Who can tell what may have detained Argutis?I wilt wait no longer. The sun will have set before long, and thisevening Caesar is to sup with Seleukus, the father of Korinna. I happento know it from Samonicus, who is one of the guests. Seleukus and hiswife have a great regard for Alexander, and will do for him all thatlies in their power. The lady Berenike, he told me, is a noble dame. Itshould be your part to entreat her help for our father and brother; butyou must not venture where Caesar is. So I will go, and I shall have norest till Korinna's mother listens to me and promises to aid us."
At this Philip exclaimed, in horror: "What! you will dare to enter thehouse where Caracalla is feasting with the rabble he calls his friends?You, an inexperienced girl, young, beautiful, whose mere appearanceis enough to stir their evil passions? Sooner than allow that, I willmyself find my way into the house of Seleukus, and among the spies whosurround the tyrant."
"That my father may lose another son, and I my only remaining brother?"Melissa observed, with grave composure. "Say no more, Philip. I amgoing, and you must wait for me here."
The philosopher broke out at this in despotic wrath:
"What has come over you, that you have suddenly forgotten how to obey?But I insist; and rather than allow you to bring on us not troublemerely, but shame and disgrace, I will lock you into your room!"
He seized her hand to drag her into the adjoining room. She struggledwith all her might; but he was the stronger, and he had got her as faras the door, when the Gaul Argutis rushed, panting and breathless,into the work-room through the anteroom, calling out to the strugglingcouple:
"What are you doing? By all the gods, you have chosen the wrong time fora quarrel! Zminis is on the way hither to take you both prisoners; hewill be here in a minute! Fly into the kitchen, girl! Dido will hide youin the wood-store behind the hearth.-You, Philip, must squeeze into thehenhouse. Only be quick, or it will be too late!"
"Go!" cried Melissa to her brother. "Out through the kitchen window youcan get into the poultry-yard!"
She threw herself weeping into his arms, kissed him, and added,hastily: "Whatever happens to us, I shall risk all to save my father andAlexander. Farewell! The gods preserve us!"
She now seized Philip's wrist, as he had before grasped hers, to draghim away; but he freed himself, saying, with an indifference whichterrified her: "Then let the worst come. Ruin may take its course. Deathrather than dishonor!"
"Madman!" the slave could not help exclaiming; and the faithful fellow,though wont to obey, threw his arms round his master's son to drag himaway into the kitchen, while Philip pushed him off, saying:
"I will not hide, like a frightened woman!"
But the Gaul heard the approach of marching men, so, paying no furtherheed to the brother, he dragged Melissa into the kitchen, where old Didoundertook to hide her.
Philip stood panting in the studio. Through the open window he could seethe pursuers coming nearer, and the instinct of self-preservation, whichasserts itself even in the strongest, prompted him to follow the slave'sadvice. But before he could reach the door, in fancy he saw himselfjoining the party of philosophers airing themselves under the arcades inthe great court of the Museum; he heard their laughter and their bitterjests at the skeptic, the independent thinker, who had sought refugeamong the fowls, who had been hauled out of the hen-house; and thispicture confirmed his determination to yield to force rather than bringon himself the curse of ridicule. But at the same time other reasonsfor submitting to his fate suggested themselves unbidden--reasons moreworthy of his position, of the whole course and aim of his thoughts, andof the sorrow which weighed upon his soul. It beseemed him as a skepticto endure the worst with equanimity; under all circumstances he likedto be in the right, and he would fain have called out to his sister thatthe cruel powers whose enmity he had incurred still persisted in drivinghim on to despair and death, worthy as he was of a better fate.
A few minutes later Zminis came in, and put out his long lean arms toapprehend him in Caesar's name. Philip submitted, and not a muscle ofhis face moved. Once, indeed, a smile lighted it up, as he reflectedthat they would hardly have carried him off to prison if Alexander werealready in their power; but the smile gave way only too soon to gloomygravity when Zminis informed him that his brother, the traitor, had justgiven himself up to the chief of the night-watch, and was now safe underlock and ward. But his crime was so great that, according to the law ofEgypt, his nearest relations were to be seized and punished with him.Only his sister was now missing, but they would know how to find her.
"Possibly," Philip replied, coldly. "As justice is blind, Injustice hasno doubt all the sharper eyes."
"Well said," laughed the Egyptian. "A pinch of the salt which they giveyou at the Museum with your porridge--for nothing."
Argutis had witnessed this scene; and when, half an hour later,the men-at-arms had left the house without discovering Melissa'shiding-place, he informed her that Alexander had, as they feared, givenhimself up of his own free-will to procure Heron's release; but thevillains had kept the son, without liberating the father. Both werenow in prison, loaded with chains. The slave had ended his tale someminutes, and Melissa still stood, pale and tearless, gazing on theground as though she were turned to stone; but suddenly she shivered, asif with the chill of fever, and looked up, out through the windows intothe garden, now dim in the twilight. The sun had set, night was falling,and again the words of the Christian preacher recurred to her mind: "Thefullness of the time is come."
To her and hers a portion of life had come to an end, and a new one mustgrow out of it. Should the free-born race of Heron perish in captivityand death?
The evening star blazed out on the distant horizon, seeming to her asa sign from the gods; and she told herself that it must be her part,as the last of the family who remained free, to guard the others fromdestruction in this new life.
The heavens were soon blazing with stars. The banquet in Seleukus'shouse, at which Caesar was to appear, would begin in an hour.Irresolution and delay would ruin all; so she drew herself up resolutelyand called to Argutis, who had watched her with faithful sympathy:
"Take my father's blue cloak, Argutis, to make you more dignified; anddisguise yourself, for you must escort me, and we may be followed. You,Dido, come and help me. Take my new dress, that I wore at the Feastof Adonis, out of my trunk; and with it you will see my mother's bluefillet with the gems. My father used to say I should first wear it at mywedding, but--Well, you must bind my hair with it to-night. I am goingto a grand house, where no one will be admitted who does not look worthyof people of mark. But take off the jewel; a supplicant should make nodisplay."