impossible to arrange the curls of a lady of
distinction without the irons. Euryale, too, begged Melissa to allow it,
as nothing would make her so conspicuous in her overdressed surroundings
as excessive simplicity. That was quite true, but it made the girl
realize so vividly what was before her, that she covered her face with
her hands and sobbed out:

"To be exposed to the gaze of the whole city--to its envy and its
scorn!"

The matron's warning inquiry, what had become of her favorite's
high-minded calm, and her advice to restrain her weeping, lest she
should appear before the public in the Amphitheater with tear-stained
eyes, helped her to compose herself.

The tire-woman had not finished her work when Alexander returned, and
Melissa dared not turn her head for fear of disturbing her in her task.
But when Alexander began his report with the exclamation, "Who knows
what foolish gossip has driven him to this?" she sprang up, regardless
of the slave's warning cry. And as her brother went on to relate how
Diodoros had left the Serapeum, in spite of the physician's entreaty
to wait at least until next morning, but that Melissa need not take it
greatly to heart, it was too much for the girl who had already that day
gone through such severe and varied experiences. The ground seemed to
heave beneath her feet; sick and giddy she put out her hand to find some
support, that she might not sink on her knees; in so doing, she caught
the tall tripod which held the dish of coals. It swayed and fell
clattering to the ground, bringing the irons with it. Its burning
contents fell partly on the floor and partly on the festal robe which
Melissa had thrown over a chair before loosening her hair. Alexander
caught her just in time to prevent her falling.

With her healthy nature, Melissa soon regained consciousness, and during
the first few moments her distress over the spoiled garment threw every
other thought into the background. Shaking her head gravely over the
black-edged holes which the coals had burned in the peplos and the
under-robes, Euryale secretly rejoiced at the accident. She remembered
that when her heart was torn and bleeding, after the death of her only
child, her thoughts were taken off herself by the necessary duty of
providing mourning garments for herself, her husband, and the slaves.
This trivial task had at least helped her to forget for a few hours the
bitterness of her grief.

Only anxious to lighten in some