ing shadows of night. Melissa
looked in the direction of his pointing hand, and when he cried with
great excitement, "That is no little boat, it is a ship, and a large
one, too!" Melissa added, eagerly, "It is already near the Diabathra. It
will reach the Alveus Steganus in a moment, and pass the pharos."

"But yonder is the morning star in the heavens, and the fire is still
blazing on the tower," interrupted her brother. "Not till it has been
extinguished will they open the outside chain. And yet that ship is
steering in a northwesterly direction. It certainly comes out of the
royal harbor." He then drew his sister on faster, and when, in a few
minutes, they reached the harbor gate, he cried out, much relieved:

"Look there! The chain is still across the entrance. I see it clearly."

"And so do I," said Melissa, decidedly; and while her brother knocked at
the gate-house of the little harbor, she continued, eagerly:

"No ships dare go out before sunrise, on account of the rocks--Epagathos
said so just now--and that one near the pharos--"

But there was no time to put her thoughts into words; for the broad
harbor gate was thrown noisily open, and a troop of Roman soldiers
streamed out, followed by several Alexandrian men-at-arms. After
them came a prisoner loaded with chains, with whom a leading Roman in
warrior's dress was conversing. Both were tall and haggard, and when
they approached the brother and sister they recognized in them Macrinus
the praetorian prefect, while the prisoner was Zminis the informer.

But the Egyptian also noticed the artist and his companion. His eyes
sparkled brightly, and with triumphant scorn he pointed out to sea.

The magician Serapion had persuaded the prefect to let the Egyptian go
free. Nothing was yet known in the harbor of Zminis's disgrace, and he
had been promptly obeyed as usual, when, spurred on by the magician
and his old hatred, he gave the order for the galley which carried the
sculptor and his son on board to weigh anchor in spite of the early
hour.

Heron and Philip, with chains on their feet, were now rowing on the
same bench with the worst criminals; and the old artist's two remaining
children stood gazing after the ship that carried away their father and
brother into the distance. Melissa stood mute, with tearful eyes, while
Alexander, quite beside himself, tried to relieve his rage and grief by
empty threats.

Soon, however, his sister's remonstrances caused him