He signed to his charioteer, and the horses whirled the light vehicle across the square and down the street of Hermes.

Andreas gazed after him, and muttered, with a shrug

“My first petition to a great man, and assuredly my last.”

“The coward!” cried Melissa; but Andreas said, with a superior smile.

“Let us take a lesson from this, my child.  Those who reckon on the help of man are badly off indeed.  We must all trust in God, and each in himself.”

CHAPTER XIII.

Andreas, who had so much on his shoulders, had lost much time, and was urgently required at home.  After gratifying Melissa’s wish by describing how Diodoros had immediately recovered consciousness on the completion of the operation performed by Galen, and painting the deep amazement that had fallen on all the other physicians at the skill of this fine old man, he had done all he could for the present to be of use to the girl.  He was glad, therefore, when in the street of Hermes, now swarming again with citizens, soldiers, and horsemen, he met the old nurse, who, after conducting Agatha home to her father, had been sent back to the town to remain in attendance, if necessary, on Diodoros.  The freedman left it to her to escort Melissa to her own home, and went back to report to Polybius—­in the first place, as to his son’s state.

It was decided that Melissa should for the present remain with her father; but, as soon as Diodoros should be allowed to leave the Serapeum, she was to go across the lake to receive the convalescent on his return home.

The old woman assured her, as they walked on, that Diodoros had always been born to good luck; and it was clear that this had never been truer than now, when Galenus had come in the nick of time to restore him to life and health, and when he had won such a bride as Melissa.  Then she sang the praises of Agatha, of her beauty and goodness, and told her that the Christian damsel had made many inquiries concerning Alexander.  She, the speaker, had not been chary of her praise of the youth, and, unless she was much mistaken, the arrow of Eros had this time pierced Agatha’s heart, though till now she had been as a child—­an innocent child—­as she herself could say, who had seen her grow up from the cradle.  Her faith need not trouble either Melissa or Alexander, for gentler and more modest wives than the Christian women were not to be found among the Greeks—­and she had known many.

Melissa rarely interrupted the garrulous old woman; but, while she listened, pleasant pictures of the future rose before her fancy.  She saw herself and Diodoros ruling over Polybius’s household, and, close at hand, on Zeno’s estate, Alexander with his beautiful and adored wife.  There, under Zeno’s watchful eye, the wild youth would become a noble man.  Her father would often come to visit them, and in their happiness would learn to find pleasure in life again.  Only now and then the thought of the sacrifice which the vehement Philip must make for his younger brother, and of the danger which still threatened Alexander, disturbed the cheerful contentment of her soul, rich as it was in glad hopes.