nty about the boy."

At this instant the door opened. The new-comer was Andreas, the man to
whom Diodoros had advised Alexander to apply for protection and counsel;
and Melissa greeted him with filial affection.

He was a freedman in her lover's family, and was the steward and manager
of his master's extensive gardens and lands, which were under his
absolute control. No one could have imagined that this man had ever been
a slave; his face was swarthy, but his fine black eyes lighted it up with
a glance of firm self reliance and fiery energy. It was the look of a man
who might be the moving spirit of one of those rebellions which were
frequent in Alexandria; there was an imperious ring in his voice, and
decision in the swift gestures of his hardened but shapely hands.

For twenty years, indeed, he had ruled over the numerous slaves of
Polybius, who was an easy-going master, and an invalid from gout in his
feet. He was at this time a victim to a fresh attack, and had therefore
sent his confidential steward into the town to tell Heron that he
approved of his son's choice, and that he would protect Alexander from
pursuit.

All this Andreas communicated in few and business-like words; but he then
turned to Melissa, and said, in a tone of kindly and affectionate
familiarity: "Polybius also wishes to know how your lover is being cared
for by the Christians, and from hence I am going on to see our sick boy."

"Then ask your friends," the gem-cutter broke in, to keep less ferocious
dogs for the future."

"That," replied the freedman, "will be unnecessary, for it is not likely
that the fierce brute belongs to the community whose friendship I am
proud to claim; and, if it does, they will be as much grieved over the
matter as we can be."

"A Christian would never do another an ill turn!" said Heron, with a
shrug.

"Never, so far as justice permits," replied Andreas, decisively. Then he
inquired whether Heron had any message or news to send to his son; and
when the gem-cutter replied that he had not, the freedman was about to
go. Melissa, however, detained him, saying:

"I will go with you if you will allow me."

"And I?" said Heron, irritably. "It seems to me that children are
learning to care less and less what their fathers' views and requirements
may be. I have to go to Philip. Who knows what may happen in my absence?
Besides--no offense to you, Andreas--what concern has my daughter among
the Christians?"

"To visi