ved to be a risen ghost, took to his heels, dragging Melissa
with him. The dog flew after them, barking loudly; and when the youth
stooped to pick up a stone to scare him off, the angry brute sprang on
him and dragged him down.

Melissa screamed for help, but the gruff voice angrily bade her be
silent. Far from obeying him, the girl shouted louder than ever; and
now, out of the entrance to the cave, close behind the scene of the
disaster, came a number of men with lamps and tapers. They were the
same daimons whose song she had heard in the street; she could not
be mistaken. On her knees, by the side of her lover as he lay on the
ground, she stared up at the apparitions. A stone flew at the dog to
scare him off, and a second, larger than the first, whisked past her and
hit Diodoros on the head; she heard the dull blow. At this a cold
hand seemed to clutch her heart; everything about her melted into one
whirling, colorless cloud. Pale as death, she threw up her arms to
protect herself, and then, overcome with terror and fatigue, with a
faint cry of anguish she lost consciousness.

When she opened her eyes again her head was resting in the lap of
a kind, motherly woman, while some men were just bearing away the
senseless form of Diodoros on a bier.

CHAPTER VI.

The sun had risen an hour since. Heron had betaken himself to his
workshop, whistling as he went, and in the kitchen his old slave Argutis
was standing over the hearth preparing his master's morning meal. He
dropped a pinch of dill into the barley-porridge, and shook his gray
head solemnly.

His companion Dido, a Syrian, whose wavy white hair contrasted strangely
with her dark skin, presently came in, and, starting up, he hastily
inquired, "Not in yet?"

"No," said the other woman, whose eyes were full of tears. "And you know
what my dream was. Some evil has come to her, I am certain; and when the
master hears of it--" Here she sobbed aloud; but the slave reproved her
for useless weeping.

"You never carried her in your arms," whimpered the woman.

"But often enough on my shoulder," retorted the Gaul, for Argutis was a
native of Augusta Trevirorum, on the Moselle. "Assoon as the porridge is
ready you must take it in and prepare the master."

"That his first fury may fall on me!" said the old woman, peevishly. "I
little thought when I was young!"

"That is a very old story," said Argutis, "and we both know what the
master's temper is. I should hav