cence, such beauty, and
the pathetic glance of those large, imploring eyes.

When at length Melissa quitted the house, deeply veiled, with Argutis to
escort her, she took his arm; and he, wearing his master's mantle, and
exempted long since from keeping his hair cropped, was so proud of this
that he walked with all the dignity of a freeman, and no one could have
guessed that he was a slave. Melissa's face was completely hidden, and
she, like her companion, was safe from recognition. Argutis,
nevertheless, led her through the quietest and darkest lanes to the
Kanopic way. Both were silent, and looked straight before them. Melissa,
as she walked on, could not think with her usual calm. Like a suffering
man who goes to the physician's house to die or be cured by the knife,
she felt that she was on her way to something terrible in itself, to
remedy, if possible, something still more dreadful. Her
father--Alexander, so reckless and so good-hearted--Philip, whom she
pitied--and her sick lover, came in turn before her fancy. But she could
not control her mind to dwell on either for long. Nor could she, as
usual, when she had any serious purpose in hand, put up a prayer to her
mother's manes or the immortals; and all the while an inner voice made
itself heard, confidently promising her that Caesar, for whom she had
sacrificed, and who might be kinder and more merciful than others
fancied, would at once grant all she should ask. But she would not
listen; and when she nevertheless ventured to consider how she could make
her way into Caesar's presence, a cold shiver ran down her back, and
again Philip's last words sounded in her ears, "Death rather than
dishonor!"

Other thoughts and feelings filled the slave's soul. He, who had always
watched over his master's children with far more anxious care than Heron
himself, had not said a word to dissuade Melissa from her perilous
expedition. Her plan had, indeed, seemed to him the only one which
promised any success. He was a man of sixty years, and a shrewd fellow,
who might easily have found a better master than Heron had been; but he
gave not a thought to his own prospects--only to Melissa's, whom he loved
as a child of his own. She had placed herself under his protection, and
he felt responsible for her fate. Thus he regarded it as great good
fortune that he could be of use in procuring her admission to the house
of Seleukus, for the door-keeper was a fellow-countryman of his, whom