It suddenly struck Melissa that Andreas, too, had once been a slave, and the feeling that she had hurt him grieved her to the heart.  She had often heard him speak sternly and gravely, but never in scorn as he did now, and that, too, distressed her; and as she could not think of the right thing to say in atonement for the wrong she had done, she could only look up with tearful entreaty and murmur, “Forgive me!”

“I have nothing to forgive,” he replied in an altered tone.  “You have grown up among the unjust who are now in power.  How should you see more clearly than they, who all walk in darkness?  But if the light should be shown to you by one to whom it hath been revealed, it would not be extinguished again.—­Does it not seem a beautiful thing to you to live among none but brethren and sisters, instead of among oppressors and their scourged victims; or is there no place in a woman’s soul for the holy wrath that came upon Moses the Hebrew?  But who would ever have spoken his great name to you?”

Melissa was about to interrupt his vehement speech, for, in a town where there were so many Jews, alike among the citizens and the slaves, even she had heard that Moses had been their lawgiver; but he prevented her, by adding hastily:  “This only, child, I would have you remember—­for here is the ferry—­the worst ills that man ever inflicts on his fellow-man are the outcome of self-interest; and, of all the good he may do, the best is the result of his achieving self-forgetfulness to secure the happiness and welfare of others.”

He said no more, for the ferry-boat was about to put off, and they had to take their places as quickly as possible.

The large flat barge was almost unoccupied; for the multitude still lingered in the town, and more than one seat was empty for the weary girl to rest on.  Andreas paced to and fro, for he was restless; but when Melissa beckoned to him he came close to her, and, while he leaned against the little cabin, received her assurance that she now quite understood his desire to see all slaves made free.  He, if any one, must know what the feelings of those unhappy creatures were.

“Do I not know!” he exclaimed, with a shake of the head.  Then, glancing round at the few persons who were sitting at the other end of the boat, he went on sadly:  “To know that, a man must himself have been branded with the marks of his humiliation.”  He showed her his arm, which was usually hidden by the long sleeve of his tunic, and Melissa exclaimed in sorrowful surprise:  “But you were free-born! and none of our slaves bear such a brand.  You must have fallen into the hands of Syrian pirates.”

He nodded, and added, “I and my father.”

“But he,” the girl eagerly put in, “was a great man.”

“Till Fate overtook him,” Andreas said.

Melissa’s tearful eyes showed the warm sympathy she felt, as she asked: 

“But how could it have happened that you were not ransomed by your relations?  Your father was, no doubt, a Roman citizen; and the law—­”