“I will not hide, like a frightened woman!”

But the Gaul heard the approach of marching men, so, paying no further heed to the brother, he dragged Melissa into the kitchen, where old Dido undertook to hide her.

Philip stood panting in the studio.  Through the open window he could see the pursuers coming nearer, and the instinct of self-preservation, which asserts itself even in the strongest, prompted him to follow the slave’s advice.  But before he could reach the door, in fancy he saw himself joining the party of philosophers airing themselves under the arcades in the great court of the Museum; he heard their laughter and their bitter jests at the skeptic, the independent thinker, who had sought refuge among the fowls, who had been hauled out of the hen-house; and this picture confirmed his determination to yield to force rather than bring on himself the curse of ridicule.  But at the same time other reasons for submitting to his fate suggested themselves unbidden—­reasons more worthy of his position, of the whole course and aim of his thoughts, and of the sorrow which weighed upon his soul.  It beseemed him as a skeptic to endure the worst with equanimity; under all circumstances he liked to be in the right, and he would fain have called out to his sister that the cruel powers whose enmity he had incurred still persisted in driving him on to despair and death, worthy as he was of a better fate.

A few minutes later Zminis came in, and put out his long lean arms to apprehend him in Caesar’s name.  Philip submitted, and not a muscle of his face moved.  Once, indeed, a smile lighted it up, as he reflected that they would hardly have carried him off to prison if Alexander were already in their power; but the smile gave way only too soon to gloomy gravity when Zminis informed him that his brother, the traitor, had just given himself up to the chief of the night-watch, and was now safe under lock and ward.  But his crime was so great that, according to the law of Egypt, his nearest relations were to be seized and punished with him.  Only his sister was now missing, but they would know how to find her.

“Possibly,” Philip replied, coldly.  “As justice is blind, Injustice has no doubt all the sharper eyes.”

“Well said,” laughed the Egyptian.  “A pinch of the salt which they give you at the Museum with your porridge—­for nothing.”

Argutis had witnessed this scene; and when, half an hour later, the men-at-arms had left the house without discovering Melissa’s hiding-place, he informed her that Alexander had, as they feared, given himself up of his own free-will to procure Heron’s release; but the villains had kept the son, without liberating the father.  Both were now in prison, loaded with chains.  The slave had ended his tale some minutes, and Melissa still stood, pale and tearless, gazing on the ground as though she were turned to stone; but suddenly she shivered, as if with the chill of fever, and looked up, out through the windows into the garden, now dim in the twilight.  The sun had set, night was falling, and again the words of the Christian preacher recurred to her mind:  “The fullness of the time is come.”