rushing mob, and no dust came up from the
well-watered roadway, and yet the girl had lost her cheerful looks, in
spite of the success of her bold venture; and Andreas walked by her side,
silent and ill-pleased.

She could not understand him; for, as long as she could remember, his
grave looks had always brightened at anything that had brought gladness
to her or to her mother. Besides, her success with the Roman would be to
the advantage of Diodoros, and the freedman was devoted to him. Every now
and then she perceived that his eye rested on her with a compassionate
expression, and when she inquired whether he were anxious about the
sufferer, he gave her some evasive answer, quite unlike his usual
decisive speech. This added to her alarm. At last his dissatisfied and
unsatisfactory replies vexed the usually patient girl, and she told him
so; for she could not suspect how painfully her triumph in her hasty deed
jarred on her truth-loving friend. He knew that it was not to the great
Galenus, but to the wealthy Serenus Samonicus, that she had spoken; for
the physician's noble and thoughtful features were familiar to him from
medals, statues, and busts. He had seen Samonicus, too, at Antioch, and
held his medical lore, as expressed in verse, very cheap. How worthless
would this man's help be! In spite of his promise, Diodoros would after
all have to be conveyed to the Serapeum; and yet Andreas could not bear
to crush his darling's hopes.

He had hitherto known her as a patient, dutiful child; to-day he had seen
with what unhesitating determination she could carry out a purpose; and
he feared that, if he told her the truth, she would at once make her way
into Caesar's quarters, in defiance of every obstacle, to crave the
assistance of the true Galen. He must leave her in error, and yet he
could not bear to do so, for there was no art in which he was so inexpert
as that of deceit. How hard it was to find the right answer, when she
asked him whether he did not hope everything from the great physician's
intervention, or when she inquired what were the works to which Galen
owed his chief fame!

As they came near to the landing-stage whence the ferry started, she
wanted to know how old he should suppose the Roman leech to be; and again
he avoided answering, for Galen was above eighty, and Serenus scarcely
seventy.

She looked up at him with large, mournful eyes, saying, "Have I offended
you, or is there something you are conce