Heron had come home between midnight and sunrise and had gone to bed.  Next morning, while he was feeding the birds, Zminis, the captain of the night-watch, had come in with some men-at-arms, and had tried to take the artist prisoner in Caesar’s name.  On this, Heron had raved like a bull, had appealed to his Macedonian birth, his rights as a Roman citizen, and much besides, and demanded to know of what he was accused.  He was then informed that he was to be held in captivity by the special orders of the head of the police, till his son Alexander, who was guilty of high-treason, should surrender to the authorities.  But her master, said Dido, sobbing, had knocked down the man who had tried to bind him with a mighty blow of his fist.  At last there was a fearful uproar, and in fact a bloody fight.  The starling shouted his cry through it all, the birds fluttered and piped with terror, and it was like the abode of the damned in the nether world; and strangers came crowding about the house, till Skopas arrived and advised Heron to go with the Egyptian.

“But even at the door,” Dido added, “he called out to me that you, Melissa, could remain with Polybius till he should recover his liberty.  Philip was to appeal for help to the prefect Titianus, and offer him the gems—­you know them, he said.  And, last of all,” and again she began to cry, “he especially commended to my care the tomb—­and the birds; and the starling wants some fresh mealworms.”  Melissa heard with dismay; the color had faded from her cheeks, and as Dido ended she asked gloomily: 

“And Philip—­and Alexander?”

“We have thought of everything,” replied the old woman.  “As soon as we were alone we held a council, Argutis and I. He went to find Alexander, and I went to Philip.  I found him in his rooms.  He had come home very late, the porter said, and I saw him in bed, and I had trouble enough to wake him.  Then I told him all, and he went on in such mad talk—­it will be no wonder if the gods punish him.  He wanted to rush off to the prefect, with his hair uncombed, just as he was.  I had to bring him to his senses; and then, while I was oiling his hair and helping him into his best new mantle, he changed his mind, for he declared he would come home first, to talk with you and Argutis.  Argutis was at home again, but he had not found Alexander, for the poor youth has to hide himself as if he were a murderer.”  And again she sobbed; nor was it till Melissa had soothed her with kind speeches that she could go on with her story.

Philip had learned yesterday where Alexander was concealed, so he undertook to go across the lake and inform him of what had occurred.  But Argutis, faithful and prudent, had hindered him, representing that Alexander, who was easily moved, as soon as he heard that his father was a prisoner would unhesitatingly give himself up to his enemies as a hostage, and rush headlong into danger.  Alexander must remain in hiding