the while an inner voice made itself heard, confidently promising her that Caesar, for whom she had sacrificed, and who might be kinder and more merciful than others fancied, would at once grant all she should ask.  But she would not listen; and when she nevertheless ventured to consider how she could make her way into Caesar’s presence, a cold shiver ran down her back, and again Philip’s last words sounded in her ears, “Death rather than dishonor!”

Other thoughts and feelings filled the slave’s soul.  He, who had always watched over his master’s children with far more anxious care than Heron himself, had not said a word to dissuade Melissa from her perilous expedition.  Her plan had, indeed, seemed to him the only one which promised any success.  He was a man of sixty years, and a shrewd fellow, who might easily have found a better master than Heron had been; but he gave not a thought to his own prospects—­only to Melissa’s, whom he loved as a child of his own.  She had placed herself under his protection, and he felt responsible for her fate.  Thus he regarded it as great good fortune that he could be of use in procuring her admission to the house of Seleukus, for the door-keeper was a fellow-countryman of his, whom Fate had brought hither from the banks of the Moselle.  At every festival, which secured a few hours’ liberty to all the slaves, they had for years been boon companions, and Argutis knew that his friend would do for him and his young mistress all that lay in his power.  It would, of course, be difficult to get an audience of the mistress of a house where Caesar was a guest, but the door-keeper was clever and ingenious, and would do anything short of the impossible.

So he walked with his head high and his heart full of pride, and it confirmed his courage when one of Zminis’s men, whom they passed in the brightly illuminated Kanopic street, and who had helped to secure Philip, looked at him without recognizing him.

There was a great stir in this, the handsomest road through the city.  The people were waiting for Caesar; but stricter order was observed than on the occasion of his arrival.  The guard prohibited all traffic on the southern side of the way, and only allowed the citizens to walk up and down the footpath, shaded by trees, between the two roadways paved with granite flags, and the arcades in front of the houses on either side.  The free inhabitants, unaccustomed to such restrictions, revenged themselves by cutting witticisms at Caesar’s expense, “for clearing the streets of Alexandria by his men-at-arms as he did those of Rome by the executioner.  He seemed to have forgotten, as he kept the two roads open, that he only needed one, now that he had murdered his brother and partner.”

Melissa and her companion were ordered to join the crowd on the footway; but Argutis managed to convince a man on guard that they were two of the mimes who were to perform before Caesar—­the door-keeper at the house of Seleukus would confirm the fact—­and the official himself made way for them into the vestibule of this splendid dwelling.