“Listen to our little girl!  Where did those gentle eyes get that determined flash?  From misfortune—­from misfortune!  They rob the gentle dove of her young—­I mean her splendid Alexander—­and lo, she becomes a valiant falcon!  I expected to find you a heart-broken lamb, over your tear-stained stitching, and behold it is you who try to fire me.  Well, then, tell me what arrows we have left, when you have heard me out.  But, before I proceed, is Argutis at home again?  No?  He must go across again, to take various things to Alexander—­linen, garments, and the like.  I met Glaukias the sculptor, and he begged me not to forget it; for he knows where the lad is hidden, and was on the point of going over to see him.  The man had made himself perfectly unrecognizable.  He is a true friend, if such a thing there be!  And how grieved he was to hear of my father’s ill fortune!  I believe he is envious of Diodoros.”

Melissa shook a finger at him; but she turned pale, and curiously inquired whether her brother had remembered to warn Glaukias on no account to tell Alexander that it was in his power to release his father.

Philip struck his brow, and, with a helpless fall of the mouth, which was usually so firmly set and ready to sneer, he exclaimed, like a boy caught in mischief:  “That, that—­I can not imagine how I forgot it, but I did not mention it.  What strange absence of mind!  But I can remedy it at once on the spot.  Argutis—­nay, I will go myself.”

He sprang up, and was on the point of carrying out his sudden purpose, but Melissa detained him.  With a decisiveness which again amazed him, she desired him to remain; and while he paced the workroom with rapid strides, heaping abuse on himself, now striking his breast, and now pushing his fingers through his disordered hair, she made it clear to him that he could not reach Alexander in time to prevent his knowing all, and that the only result of his visit would be to put the watch on the track.  Instead of raving and lamenting, he would do better to tell her whither he had been.

First, he hastily began, he had gone to the prefect Titianus, who was an elderly man of a noble family, many of whose members had ere now occupied the official residence of the prefect in Alexandria, and in other towns of Egypt.  He had often met Philip at the disputations he was wont to attend in the Museum, and had a great regard for him.  But of late Titianus had been out of health, and had kept his house.  He had undergone some serious operation shortly before Caesar’s arrival at Alexandria had been announced, and this had made it impossible for him to be present at the grand reception, or even to pay his respects to Caracalla.