"Be easy, dear child--be easy. It is nothing; depend upon that. I know
the knock; it is only Philip."

CHAPTER XIV.

Dido was right. Heron's eldest son had returned from his errand. Tired,
disappointed, and with fierce indignation in his eyes, he staggered in
like a drunken man who has been insulted in his cups; and, without
greeting her--as his mother had taught her children to greet even their
slaves--he merely asked in hoarse tones, "Is Melissa come in?"

"Yes, yes," replied Dido, laying her finger to her lips. "You roused her
from a nap. And what a state you are in! You must not let her see you so!
It is very clear what news you bring. The prefect will not help us?"

"Help us!" echoed Philip, wrathfully. "In Alexandria a man may drown
rather than another will risk wetting his feet."

"Nay, it is not so bad as that," said the old woman. "Alexander himself
has burned his fingers for others many a time. Wait a minute. I will
fetch you a draught of wine. There is some still in the kitchen; for if
you appear before your sister in that plight--"

But Melissa had recognized her brother's voice, and, although Philip had
smoothed his hair a little with his hands, one glance at his face showed
her that his efforts had been vain.

"Poor boy!" she said, when, in answer to her question as to what his news
was, he had answered gloomily, "As bad as possible."

She took his hand and led him into the work-room. There she reminded him
that she was giving him a new brother in Diodoros; and he embraced her
fondly, and wished her and her betrothed every happiness. She thanked him
out of a full heart, while he swallowed his wine, and then she begged him
to tell her all he had done.

He began, and, as she gazed at him, it struck her how little he resembled
his father and brother, though he was no less tall, and his head was
shaped like theirs. But his frame, instead of showing their stalwart
build, was lean and weakly. His spine did not seem strong enough for his
long body, and he never held himself upright. His head was always bent
forward, as if he were watching or seeking something; and even when he
had seated himself in his father's place at the work-table to tell his
tale, his hands and feet, even the muscles of his well-formed but
colorless face, were in constant movement. He would jump up, or throw
back his head to shake his long hair off his face, and his fine, large,
dark eyes glowed with wrathful fires.

"I re