Fate had brought hither from the banks of the Moselle. At every festival,
which secured a few hours' liberty to all the slaves, they had for years
been boon companions, and Argutis knew that his friend would do for him
and his young mistress all that lay in his power. It would, of course, be
difficult to get an audience of the mistress of a house where Caesar was
a guest, but the door-keeper was clever and ingenious, and would do
anything short of the impossible.

So he walked with his head high and his heart full of pride, and it
confirmed his courage when one of Zminis's men, whom they passed in the
brightly illuminated Kanopic street, and who had helped to secure Philip,
looked at him without recognizing him.

There was a great stir in this, the handsomest road through the city. The
people were waiting for Caesar; but stricter order was observed than on
the occasion of his arrival. The guard prohibited all traffic on the
southern side of the way, and only allowed the citizens to walk up and
down the footpath, shaded by trees, between the two roadways paved with
granite flags, and the arcades in front of the houses on either side. The
free inhabitants, unaccustomed to such restrictions, revenged themselves
by cutting witticisms at Caesar's expense, "for clearing the streets of
Alexandria by his men-at-arms as he did those of Rome by the executioner.
He seemed to have forgotten, as he kept the two roads open, that he only
needed one, now that he had murdered his brother and partner."

Melissa and her companion were ordered to join the crowd on the footway;
but Argutis managed to convince a man on guard that they were two of the
mimes who were to perform before Caesar--the door-keeper at the house of
Seleukus would confirm the fact--and the official himself made way for
them into the vestibule of this splendid dwelling.

But Melissa was as little in the humor to admire all the lavish
magnificence which surrounded her as Alexander had been a few days since.
Still veiled, she modestly took a place among the choir who stood on each
side of the hall ready to welcome Caesar with singing and music. Argutis
stopped to speak with his friend. She dimly felt that the whispering and
giggling all about her was at her expense; and when an elderly, man, the
choir-master, asked her what she wanted, and desired her to remove her
veil, she obeyed at once, saying: "Pray let me stand here, the Lady
Berenike will send for me."

"Very