“O life! fount of joys!” cried Diodoros, kissing her and pressing her closer to him.  “Come, Iakchos!  Behold with envy how thankfully two mortals can bless the gift of life.  But where is Alexander?  To none but to our Andreas have I ever confided the secret I have borne in my heart since that day when we went to the circus.  But now!  Oh, it is so much happiness for two hearts!  My friend, too, must have part in it!”

At this Melissa clasped her hand to her brow, as though waking from a dream.  How hot she was from dancing, and the unusual strength of the wine and water she had drunk!

The danger impending over both her brothers came back to her mind.  She had always been accustomed to think of others rather than herself, and her festal mood dropped from her suddenly, like a mantle of which the brooch breaks.  She vehemently shook herself free of her lover’s embrace, and her eyes glanced from one to another in rapid search.

There stood pretty Ino, who had danced the mazy measure with Alexander.  Panting for breath, she stood leaning her weary head and tangled hair against the trunk of the tree, a wine-cup upside down in her right hand.  It must be empty; but where was he who had emptied it?

Her neighbor’s daughter would surely know.  Had the reckless youth quarreled with the girl?  No, no!

One of the tavern-keeper’s slaves, Ino told her, had whispered something to Alexander, whereupon he had instantly followed the man into the house.  Melissa knew that it could be no trivial matter which detained him there, and hurried after him into the tavern.

The host, a Greek, and his buxom wife, affected not to know for whom she was inquiring; but, perceiving the anxiety which spoke in every line of the girl’s face, when she explained that she was Alexander’s sister, they at first looked at each other doubtingly, and then the woman, who had children of her own, who fondly loved each other, felt her heart swell within her, and she whispered, with her finger on her lips:  “Do not be uneasy, pretty maid; my husband will see him well through.”

And then Melissa heard that the Egyptian, who had alarmed her in the Nekropolis, was the spy Zminis, who, as her old slave Dido had once told her, had been a rejected suitor of her mother’s before she had married Heron, and who was therefore always glad to bring trouble on all who belonged to her father’s house.  How often had she heard of the annoyances in which this man had involved her father and Alexander, who were apt to be very short with the man!