“Then I had time to look for Philip, but I could hear nothing of him, either in his own lodgings or at the Museum.  To-day I have been hunting for him since early in the morning.  I even forgot to lay any flowers on my mother’s grave, as usual on the day of the Nekysia, because I was thinking only of him.  But he no doubt is gone to the city of the dead; for, on my way hither, as I was ordering a garland in the flower-market, pretty little Doxion showed me two beauties which she had woven for him, and which he is presently to fetch.  So he must now be in the Nekropolis; and I know for whom he intends the second; for the door-keeper at Seleukus’s house told me that a man, who said he was my brother, had twice called, and had eagerly inquired whether my picture had yet been attached to Korinna’s sarcophagus.  The old man told him it had not, because, of course, the embalming could not be complete as yet.  But the picture was to be displayed to-day, as being the feast of the dead, in the hall of the embalmers.  That was the plan, I know.  So, now, child, set your wise little woman’s head to work, and devise something by which he may be brought to his senses, and released from these crazy imaginings.”

“The first thing to be done,” Melissa exclaimed, “is to follow him and talk to him.-Wait a moment; I must speak a word to the slaves.  My father’s night-draught can be mixed in a minute.  He might perhaps return home before us, and I must leave his couch—­I will be with you in a minute.”

CHAPTER III.

The brother and sister had walked some distance.  The roads were full of people, and the nearer they came to the Nekropolis the denser was the throng.

As they skirted the town walls they took counsel together.

Being perfectly agreed that the girl who had touched Philip’s hand could certainly be no daimon who had assumed Korinna’s form, they were inclined to accept the view that a strong resemblance had deceived their brother.  They finally decided that Alexander should try to discover the maiden who so strangely resembled the dead; and the artist was ready for the task, for he could only work when his heart was light, and had never felt such a weight on it before.  The hope of meeting with a living creature who resembled that fair dead maiden, combined with his wish to rescue his brother from the disorder of mind which threatened him; and Melissa perceived with glad surprise how quickly this new object in life restored the youth’s happy temper.

It was she who spoke most, and Alexander, whom nothing escaped that had any form of beauty, feasted his ear on the pearly ring of her voice.

“And her face is to match,” thought he as they went on in the darkness; “and may the Charites who have endowed her with every charm, forgive my father for burying her as he does his gold.”