He had hitherto known her as a patient, dutiful child; to-day he had seen with what unhesitating determination she could carry out a purpose; and he feared that, if he told her the truth, she would at once make her way into Caesar’s quarters, in defiance of every obstacle, to crave the assistance of the true Galen.  He must leave her in error, and yet he could not bear to do so, for there was no art in which he was so inexpert as that of deceit.  How hard it was to find the right answer, when she asked him whether he did not hope everything from the great physician’s intervention, or when she inquired what were the works to which Galen owed his chief fame!

As they came near to the landing-stage whence the ferry started, she wanted to know how old he should suppose the Roman leech to be; and again he avoided answering, for Galen was above eighty, and Serenus scarcely seventy.

She looked up at him with large, mournful eyes, saying, “Have I offended you, or is there something you are concealing from me?”

“What could you do to offend me?” he replied; “life is full of sorrows, my child.  You must learn to have patience.”

“Patience!” echoed Melissa, sadly.  “That is the only knowledge I have ever mastered.  When my father is more sullen than you are, for a week at a time, I scarcely heed it.  But when you look like that, Andreas, it is not without cause, and that is why I am anxious.”

“One we love is very sick, child,” he said, soothingly; but she was not to be put off so, and exclaimed with conviction: 

“No, no, it is not that.  We have learned nothing fresh about Diodoro—­ and you were ready enough to answer me when we came away from the Christian’s house.  Nothing but good has happened to us since, and yet you look as if the locusts had come down on your garden.”

They had reached a spot on the shore where a ship was being unloaded of its cargo of granite blocks from Syene.  Black and brown slaves were dragging them to land.  An old blind man was piping a dismal tune on a small reed flute to encourage them in their work, while two men of fairer hue, whose burden had been too heavy for them, had let the end of the column they were carrying sink on the ground, and were being mercilessly flogged by the overseer to make them once more attempt the impossible.

Andreas had watched the scene; a surge of fury had brought the blood to his face, and, stirred by great and genuine emotion, he broke out: 

“There—­there you see the locusts which destroy my garden—­the hail which ruins my crops!  It falls on all that bears the name of humanity—­on me and you.  Happy, girl?  None of us can ever be happy till the Kingdom shall arise for which the fullness of the time is come.”

“But they dropped the column; I saw them myself,” urged Melissa.

“Did you, indeed?” said Andreas.  “Well, well, the whip, no doubt, can revive exhausted powers.  And that is how you look upon such deeds!—­you, who would not crush a worm in the garden, think this is right and just!”