Diodoros knew his friend well.  He was incapable of falsehood; and his deed, which under a false light so easily assumed an aspect of villainy, had, in fact, been no more than an act of thoughtlessness such as he had himself often lent a hand in.  Alexander, however, seemed determined not to hear the comfort offered him by his sister and his friend.  A flash of lightning revealed him to them, sitting with a bent head and his hands over his brow; and this gloomy vision of one who so lately had been the gayest of the gay troubled their revived happiness even more than the thought of the danger which, as each knew, threatened the others.

As they passed the Temple of Artemis, which was brightly illuminated, reminding them that they were reaching their destination, Alexander at last looked up and begged the lovers to consider their immediate affairs.  His mind had remained clear, and what he said showed that he had not lost sight of his sister’s future.

As soon as Melissa should have effected her escape, Caesar would undoubtedly seize, not only her lover, but his father as well.  Diodoros must forthwith cross the lake and rouse Polybius and Praxilla, to warn them of the imminent danger, while Alexander undertook to hire a ship for the party.  Argutis would await the fugitives in a tavern by the harbor, and conduct them on board the vessel which would be in readiness.  Diodoros, who was not yet able to walk far, promised to avail himself of one of the litters waiting outside the Temple of Artemis.

Just before the vehicle stopped, the lovers took leave.  They arranged where and how they might have news of each other, and all they said, in brief words and a fervent parting kiss, in this moment, when death or imprisonment might await them, had the solemn purport of a vow.

The swift horses stopped.  Alexander hastily leaned over to his friend, kissed him on both cheeks, and whispered: 

“Take good care of her; think of me kindly if we should never meet again, and tell the others that wild Alexander has played another fool’s trick, at any rate, not a wicked one, however badly it may turn out for him.”

For the sake of the charioteer, who, after Melissa’s flight, would be certainly cross-examined, Diodoros could make no reply.  The carruca rattled off by the way by which it had come; Diodoros vanished in the darkness, and Melissa clasped her hands over her face.  She felt as though this were her last parting from her lover, and the sun would never shine on earth again.

It was now near midnight.  The slaves had heard the approach of the chariot, and received them as heartily as ever, but in obedience to Heron’s orders they added the most respectful bows to their usual well-meant welcome.  Since their master had shown himself to Dido, in the afternoon, with braggart dignity, as a Roman magnate, she had felt as though the age of miracles had come, and nothing was impossible.  Splendid visions of future grandeur