“Do you hear, little one?  Peck away at the old man’s finger; he knows you mean it kindly, and it does not hurt.  I was all alone out there, and Selene looked down on us in silence.  There was rioting and shouting all round, but I could hear the voice of our dead.  She was very near me, and her sad soul showed me that she still cared for me.  I had taken a jar of our best wine of Byblos under my cloak; as soon as I had poured oil on her gravestone and shed some of the noble liquor, the earth drank it up as though it were thirsty.  Not a drop was left.  Yes, little fellow, she accepted the gift; and when I fell on my knees to meditate on her, she vouchsafed replies to many of my questions.

“We talked together as we used—­you know.  And we remembered you, too; I gave you her love.

“You understand me, little fellow, don’t you?  And, I tell you, better times are coming now.”

He turned from the bird with a sharp movement of annoyance, for the slave-woman came in with the bowl of barley-porridge.

“You!” exclaimed Heron, in surprise.  “Where is Melissa?”

“She will come presently,” said the old woman, in a low and doubtful tone.

“Oh, thanks for the oracle!” said the artist, ironically.

“How you mock at a body!” said the old woman.  “I meant—­But eat first—­eat.  Anger and grief are ill food for an empty stomach.”

Heron sat down to the table and began to eat his porridge, but he presently tossed away the spoon, exclaiming: 

“I do not fancy it, eating by myself.”

Then, with a puzzled glance at Dido, he asked in a tone of vexation: 

“Well, why are you waiting here?  And what is the meaning of all that nipping and tugging at your dress?  Have you broken another dish?  No?  Then have done with that cursed head-shaking, and speak out at once!”

“Eat, eat,” repeated Dido, retreating to the door, but Heron called her back with vehement abuse; but when she began again her usual complaint, “I never thought, when I was young—­” Heron recovered the good temper he had been rejoicing in so lately, and retorted:  “Oh! yes, I know, I have the daughter of a great potentate to wait on me.  And if it had only occurred to Caesar, when he was in Syria, to marry your sister, I should have had his sister-in-law in my service.  But at any rate I forbid howling.  You might have learned in the course of thirty years, that I do not eat my fellow-creatures.  So, now, confess at once what is wrong in the kitchen, and then go and fetch Melissa.”  The woman was, perhaps, wise to defer the evil moment as long as possible.  Matters might soon change for the better, and good or evil could come only from without.  So Dido clung to the literal sense of her master’s question, and something note-worthy had actually happened in the kitchen.  She drew a deep breath, and told him that a subordinate of the night-watch had come in and asked whether Alexander were in the house, and where his painting-room was.