Alexander had afterward learned that he was Serapion, the star-gazer and thaumaturgist, whom all the spirits of heaven and earth obeyed.

When, at the time, the painter had told the story to Philip, the philosopher had laughed at him, though Alexander had reminded him that Plato even had spoken of the daimons as being the guardian spirits of men; that in Alexandria, great and small alike believed in them as a fact to be reckoned with; and that he—­Philip himself—­had told him that they played a prominent part in the newest systems of philosophy.

But to the skeptic nothing was sure:  and if he would deny the existence of the Divinity, he naturally must disbelieve that of any beings in a sphere between the supersensual immortals and sentient human creatures.  That a man, the weaker nature, could have any power over daimons, who, as having a nearer affinity to the gods, must, if they existed, be the stronger, he could refute with convincing arguments; and when he saw others nibbling whitethorn-leaves, or daubing their thresholds with pitch to preserve themselves and the house from evil spirits, he shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, though his father often did such things.

Here was Philip, deep in conversation with the man he had mocked at, and Alexander was flattered by seeing that wise and famous Serapion, in whose powers he himself believed, was talking almost humbly to his brother, as though to a superior.  The magician was standing, while the philosopher, as though it were his right, remained seated.

Of what could they be conversing?

Alexander himself was anxious to be going, and only his desire to hear at any rate a few sentences of the talk of two such men detained him longer.

As he expected, it bore on Serapion’s magical powers; but the bearded man spoke in a very low tone, and if the painter ventured any nearer he would be seen.  He could only catch a few incoherent words, till Philip exclaimed in a louder voice:  “All that is well-reasoned.  But you will be able to write an enduring inscription on the shifting wave sooner than you will shake my conviction that for our spirit, such as Nature has made it, there is nothing infallible or certain.”

The painter was familiar with this postulate, and was curious to hear the Magian’s reply; but he could not follow his argument till he ended by saying, rather more emphatically:  “You, even, do not deny the physical connection of things; but I know the power that causes it.  It is the magical sympathy which displays itself more powerfully in the universe, and among human beings, than any other force.”

“That is just what remains to be proved,” was the reply.  But as the other declared in all confidence, “And I can prove it,” and was proceeding to do so, Serapion’s companion, a stunted, sharp-featured little Syrian, caught sight of Alexander.  The discourse was interrupted, and Alexander, pointing to Melissa, begged his brother to grant them a few minutes’ speech with him.  Philip, however, scarcely spared a moment for greeting his brother and sister; and when, in answer to his request that they be brief in what they had to say, they replied that a few words would not suffice, Philip was for putting them off till the morrow, as he did not choose to be disturbed just now.