“Then, is Zeno’s daughter fair?” asked the girl.

“She is said to be,” replied the other; and after a moment’s pause he added:  “Yes, Agatha is a rarely accomplished woman; but I know better things of her than that.  It stirs my gall to think that her sacred purity can arouse unholy thoughts.  I love your brother dearly; for your mother’s sake I can forgive him much; but if he tries to ensnare Agatha—­”

“Have no fear,” said Melissa, interrupting his wrathful speech.  “Alexander is indeed a butterfly, fluttering from flower to flower, and apt to be frivolous over serious matters, but at this moment he is enslaved by a vision—­that of a dead girl; and only last night, I believe, he pledged himself to Ino, the pretty daughter of our neighbor Skopas.  Beauty is to him the highest thing in life; and how should it be otherwise, for he is an artist!  For the sake of beauty he defies every danger.  If you saw rightly, he is no doubt in pursuit of Zeno’s daughter, but most likely not to pay court to her, but for some other season.”

“No praiseworthy reason, you may be sure,” said Andreas.  “Here we are.  Now take your kerchief out of the basket.  It is damp and cool after sundown, especially over there where I am draining the bog.  The land we are reclaiming by this means will bring your future husband a fine income some day.”

They disembarked, and ere long reached the little haven belonging to Polybius’s estate.  There were boats moored there, large and small, and Andreas hailed the man who kept them, and who sat eating his supper, to ask him whether he had unmoored the green skiff for Alexander.

At this the old fellow laughed, and said:  “The jolly painter and his friend, the sculptor, met Zeno’s daughter just as she was getting into her boat with Mariamne.  Down they came, running as if they had gone mad.  The girl must have turned their heads.  My lord Alexander would have it that he had seen the spirit of one who was dead, and he would gladly give his life to see her once again.”

It was now dark, or it would have alarmed Melissa to see the ominous gravity with which Andreas listened to this tale; but she herself was sufficiently startled, for she knew her brother well, and that no risk, however great, would stop him if his artistic fancy were fired.  He, whom she had believed to be in safety, had gone straight into the hands of the pursuers; and with him caution and reflection were flown to the winds when passion held sway.  She had hoped that her friend Ino had at last captured the flutterer, and that he would begin to live a settled life with her, as master of a house of his own; and now, for a pretty face, he had thrown everything to the winds, even the duty of self-preservation.  Andreas had good reason to be angry, and he spoke no more till they reached their destination, a country house of handsome and important aspect.