[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D. W. ]

A THORNY PATH

By Georg Ebers

Volume 1. 

CHAPTER I. 

The green screen slowly rose, covering the lower portion of the broadstudio window where Heron, the gem-cutter, was at work. It was Melissa, the artist's daughter, who had pulled it up, with bended knees andoutstretched arms, panting for breath. 

"That is enough!" cried her father's impatient voice. He glanced up atthe flood of light which the blinding sun of Alexandria was pouring intothe room, as it did every autumn afternoon; but as soon as the shadowfell on his work-table the old man's busy fingers were at work again, andhe heeded his daughter no more. 

An hour later Melissa again, and without any bidding, pulled up thescreen as before, but it was so much too heavy for her that the effortbrought the blood into her calm, fair face, as the deep, rough "That isenough" was again heard from the work-table. 

Then silence reigned once more. Only the artist's low whistling as heworked, or the patter and pipe of the birds in their cages by the window, broke the stillness of the spacious room, till the voice and step of aman were presently heard in the anteroom. 

Heron laid by his graver and Melissa her gold embroidery, and the eyesof father and daughter met for the first time for some hours. The verybirds seemed excited, and a starling, which had sat moping since thescreen had shut the sun out, now cried out, "Olympias!" Melissa rose, andafter a swift glance round the room she went to the door, come who might. 

Ay, even if the brother she was expecting should bring a companion, or a patron of art who desired her father's work, the room need not feara critical eye; and she was so well assured of the faultless neatness ofher own person, that she only passed a hand over her brown hair, and withan involuntary movement pulled her simple white robe more tightly throughher girdle. 

Heron's studio was as clean and as simple as his daughter's attire, though it seemed larger than enough for the purpose it served, for only avery small part of it was occupied by the artist, who sat as if in exilebehind the work-table on which his belongings were laid out: a set ofsmall instruments in a case, a tray filled with shells and bits of onyxand other agates, a yellow ball of Cyrenian modeling-wax, pumice-stone, bottles, boxes, and bowls. 

Melissa had no sooner crossed the threshold, than the sculptor drew uphis broad shoulders and brawny person, and raised his hand to fling awaythe slender stylus he had been using; however, he thought better of it, and laid it carefully aside with the other tools. But this act of self-control must have cost the hot-headed, powerful man a great effort; forhe shot a fierce look at the instrument which had had so narrow anescape, and gave it a push of vexation with the back of his hand. 

Then he turned towards the door, his sunburnt face looking surly enough, in its frame of tangled gray hair and beard; and, as he waited for thevisitor whom Melissa was greeting outside, he tossed back his big head, and threw out his broad, deep chest, as though preparing to wrestle. 

Melissa presently returned, and the youth whose hand she still held was, as might be seen in every feature, none other than the sculptor's son. Both were dark-eyed, with noble and splendid heads, and in statureperfectly equal; but while the son's countenance beamed with heartyenjoyment, and seemed by its peculiar attractiveness to be made--and tobe accustomed--to charm men and women alike, his father's face wasexpressive of disgust and misanthropy. It seemed, indeed, as though thenewcomer had roused his ire, for Heron answered his son's cheerfulgreeting with no word but a reproachful "At last!" and paid no heed tothe hand the youth held out to him. 

Alexander was no doubt inured to such a reception; he did not disturbhimself about the old man's ill-humor, but slapped him on the shoulderwith rough geniality, went up to the work-table with easy composure, tookup the vice which held the nearly finished gem, and, after holding it tothe light and examining it carefully, exclaimed: "Well done, father!You have done nothing better than that for a long time. "

"Poor stuff!" said his father. But his son laughed. 

"If you will have it so. But I will give one of my eyes to see the manin Alexandria who can do the like!"

At this the old man broke out, and shaking his fist he cried: "Becausethe man who can find anything worth doing, takes good care not to wastehis time here, making divine art a mere mockery by such trifling withtoys! By Sirius! I should like to fling all those pebbles into thefire, the onyx and shells and jasper and what not, and smash all thosewretched tools with these fists, which were certainly made for other workthan this. "

The youth laid an arm round his father's stalwart neck, and gaylyinterrupted his wrath. "Oh yes, Father Heron, Philip and I have feltoften enough that they know how to hit hard. "

"Not nearly often enough, " growled the artist, and the young man went on:

"That I grant, though every blow from you was equal to a dozen from thehand of any other father in Alexandria. But that those mighty fists onhuman arms should have evoked the bewitching smile on the sweet lips ofthis Psyche, if it is not a miracle of art, is--"

"The degradation of art, " the old man put in; but Alexander hastilyadded:

"The victory of the exquisite over the coarse. "

"A victory!" exclaimed Heron, with a scornful flourish of his hand. "I know, boy, why you are trying to garland the oppressive yoke withflowers of flattery. So long as your surly old father sits over thevice, he only whistles a song and spares you his complaints. And then, there is the money his work brings in!"

He laughed bitterly, and as Melissa looked anxiously up at him, herbrother exclaimed:

"If I did not know you well, master, and if it would not be too great apity, I would throw that lovely Psyche to the ostrich in Scopas's court-yard; for, by Herakles! he would swallow your gem more easily than we canswallow such cruel taunts. We do indeed bless the Muses that work bringsyou some surcease of gloomy thoughts. But for the rest--I hate to speakthe word gold. We want it no more than you, who, when the coffer isfull, bury it or hide it with the rest. Apollodorus forced a wholetalent of the yellow curse upon me for painting his men's room. Thesailor's cap, into which I tossed it with the rest, will burst whenSeleukus pays me for the portrait of his daughter; and if a thief robsyou, and me too, we need not fret over it. My brush and your stylus willearn us more in no time. And what are our needs? We do not bet onquail-fights; we do not run races; I always had a loathing for purchasedlove; we do not want to wear a heap of garments bought merely becausethey take our fancy--indeed, I am too hot as it is under this scorchingsun. The house is your own. The rent paid by Glaukias, for the work-room and garden you inherited from your father, pays for half at least ofwhat we and the birds and the slaves eat. As for Philip, he lives on airand philosophy; and, besides, he is fed out of the great breadbasket ofthe Museum. "

At this point the starling interrupted the youth's vehement speech withthe appropriate cry, "My strength! my strength!" The brother and sisterlooked at each other, and Alexander went on with genuine enthusiasm:

"But it is not in you to believe us capable of such meanness. Dedicateyour next finished work to Isis or Serapis. Let your masterpiece gracethe goddess's head-gear, or the god's robe. We shall be quite content, and perhaps the immortals may restore your joy in life as a reward. "

The bird repeated its lamentable cry, "My strength!" and the youthproceeded with increased vehemence:

"It would really be better that you should throw your vice and yourgraver and your burnisher, and all that heap of dainty tools, into thesea, and carve an Atlas such as we have heard you talk about ever sincewe could first speak Greek. Come, set to work on a colossus! You havebut to speak the word, and the finest clay shall be ready on yourmodeling-table by to-morrow, either here or in Glaukias's work-room, which is indeed your own. I know where the best is to be found, and canbring it to you in any quantity. Scopas will lend me his wagon. I cansee it now, and you valiantly struggling with it till your mighty armsache. You will not whistle and hum over that, but sing out with all yourmight, as you used when my mother was alive, when you and yourapprentices joined Dionysus's drunken rout. Then your brow will growsmooth again; and if the model is a success, and you want to buy marble, or pay the founder, then out with your gold, out of the coffer and itshiding-place! Then you can make use of all your strength, and your dreamof producing an Atlas such as the world has not seen--your beautifuldream-will become a reality!"

Heron had listened eagerly to his son's rhapsody, but he now cast a timidglance at the table where the wax and tools lay, pushed the rough hairfrom his brow, and broke in with a bitter laugh: "My dream, do you say--my dream? As if I did not know too well that I am no longer the man tocreate an Atlas! As if I did not feel, without your words, that mystrength for it is a thing of the past!"

"Nay, father, " exclaimed the painter. "Is it right to cast away thesword before the battle? And even if you did not succeed--"

"You would be all the better pleased, " the sculptor put in. "What surerway could there be to teach the old simpleton, once for all, that thetime when he could do great work is over and gone?"

"That is unjust, father; that is unworthy of you, " the young maninterrupted in great excitement; but his father went on, raising hisvoice; "Silence, boy! One thing at any rate is left to me, as you know--my keen eyes; and they did not fail me when you two looked at each otheras the starling cried, 'My strength!' Ay, the bird is in the right whenhe bewails what was once so great and is now a mere laughing-stock. Butyou--you ought to reverence the man to whom you owe your existence andall you know; you allow yourself to shrug your shoulders over your ownfather's humbler art, since your first pictures were fairly successful. --How puffed up he is, since, by my devoted care, he has been a painter!How he looks down on the poor wretch who, by the pinch of necessity, hascome down from being a sculptor of the highest promise to being a meregem-cutter! In the depths of your soul--and I know it--you regard mylaborious art as half a handicraft. Well, perhaps it deserves no bettername; but that you--both of you--should make common cause with a bird, and mock the sacred fire which still burns in an old man, and moves himto serve true and noble art and to mold something great--an Atlas such asthe world has never seen on a heroic scale; that--"

He covered his face with his hands and sobbed aloud. And the strongman's passionate grief cut his children to the heart, though, since theirmother's death, their father's rage and discontent had many a time erenow broken down into childish lamentation. 

To-day no doubt the old man was in worse spirits than usual, for it wasthe day of the Nekysia--the feast of the dead kept every autumn; and hehad that morning visited his wife's grave, accompanied by his daughter, and had anointed the tombstone and decked it with flowers. The youngpeople tried to comfort him; and when at last he was more composed andhad dried his tears, he said, in so melancholy and subdued a tone thatthe angry blusterer was scarcely recognizable: "There--leave me alone;it will soon be over. I will finish this gem to-morrow, and then I mustdo the Serapis I promised Theophilus, the high-priest. Nothing can comeof the Atlas. Perhaps you meant it in all sincerity, Alexander; butsince your mother left me, children, since then--my arms are no weakerthan they were; but in here--what it was that shriveled, broke, leakedaway--I can not find words for it. If you care for me--and I know youdo--you must not be vexed with me if my gall rises now and then; there istoo much bitterness in my soul. I can not reach the goal I strive afterand was meant to win; I have lost what I loved best, and where am I tofind comfort or compensation?"

His children tenderly assured him of their affection, and he allowedMelissa to kiss him, and stroked Alexander's hair. 

Then he inquired for Philip, his eldest son and his favorite; and onlearning that he, the only person who, as he believed, could understandhim, would not come to see him this day above all others, he again brokeout in wrath, abusing the degeneracy of the age and the ingratitude ofthe young. 

"Is it a visit which detains him again?" he inquired, and when Alexanderthought not, he exclaimed contemptuously: "Then it is some war of wordsat the Museum. And for such poor stuff as that a son can forget his dutyto his father and mother!"

"But you, too, used to enjoy these conflicts of intellect, " his daughterhumbly remarked; but the old man broke in:

"Only because they help a miserable world to forget the torments ofexistence, and the hideous certainty of having been born only to die somehorrible death. But what can you know of this?"

"By my mother's death-bed, " replied the girl, "we, too, had a glimpseinto the terrible mystery. " And Alexander gravely added, "And since welast met, father, I may certainly account myself as one of theinitiated. "

"You have painted a dead body?" asked his father. 

"Yes, father, " replied the lad with a deep breath. "I warned you, " saidHeron, in a tone of superior experience. 

And then, as Melissa rearranged the folds of his blue robe, he said heshould go for a walk. He sighed as he spoke, and his children knewwhither he would go. It was to the grave to which Melissa hadaccompanied him that morning; and he would visit it alone, to meditate undisturbed on the wife he had lost. 

CHAPTER II. 

The brother and sister were left together. Melissa sighed deeply; buther brother went up to her, laid his arm round her shoulder, and said:"Poor child! you have indeed a hard time of it. Eighteen years old, andas pretty as you are, to be kept locked up as if in prison! No one wouldenvy you, even if your fellow-captive and keeper were younger and lessgloomy than your father is! But we know what it all means. His griefeats into his soul, and it does him as much good to storm and scold, asit does us to laugh. "

"If only the world could know how kind his heart really is!" said thegirl. 

"He is not the same to his friends as to us, " said Alexander; but Melissashook her head, and said sadly: "He broke out yesterday against Apion, the dealer, and it was dreadful. For the fiftieth time he had waitedsupper for you two in vain, and in the twilight, when he had done work, his grief overcame him, and to see him weep is quite heartbreaking! TheSyrian dealer came in and found him all tearful, and being so bold as tojest about it in his flippant way--"

"The old man would give him his answer, I know!" cried her brother witha hearty laugh. "He will not again be in a hurry to stir up a woundedlion. "

"That is the very word, " said Melissa, and her large eyes sparkled. "Atthe fight in the Circus, I could not help thinking of my father, when thehuge king of the desert lay with a broken spear in his loins, whiningloudly, and burying his maned head between his great paws. The gods arepitiless!"

"Indeed they are, " replied the youth, with deep conviction; but hissister looked up at him in surprise. 

"Do you say so, Alexander? Yes, indeed--you looked just now as I neversaw you before. Has misfortune overtaken you too?"

"Misfortune?" he repeated, and he gently stroked her hair. "No, notexactly; and you know my woes sit lightly enough on me. The immortalshave indeed shown me very plainly that it is their will sometimes tospoil the feast of life with a right bitter draught. But, like the moonitself, all it shines on is doomed to change--happily! Many things herebelow seem strangely ordered. Like ears and eyes, hands and feet, manythings are by nature double, and misfortunes, as they say, commonly comein couples yoked like oxen. "

"Then you have had some twofold blow?" asked Melissa, clasping her handsover her anxiously throbbing bosom. 

"I, child! No, indeed. Nothing has befallen your father's younger son;and if I were a philosopher, like Philip, I should be moved to wonder whya man can only be wet when the rain falls on him, and yet can be sowretched when disaster falls on another. But do not look at me with suchterror in your great eyes. I swear to you that, as a man and an artist, I never felt better, and so I ought properly to be in my usual frame ofmind. But the skeleton at life's festival has been shown to me. Whatsort of thing is that? It is an image--the image of a dead man whichwas carried round by the Egyptians, and is to this day by the Romans, toremind the feasters that they should fill every hour with enjoyment, since enjoyment is all too soon at an end. Such an image, child--"

"You are thinking of the dead girl--Seleukus's daughter--whose portraityou are painting?" asked Melissa. 

Alexander nodded, sat down on the bench by his sister, and, taking up herneedlework, exclaimed "Give us some light, child. I want to see yourpretty face. I want to be sure that Diodorus did not perjure himselfwhen, at the 'Crane, ' the other day, he swore that it had not its matchin Alexandria. Besides, I hate the darkness. "

When Melissa returned with the lighted lamp, she found her brother, whowas not wont to keep still, sitting in the place where she had left him. But he sprang up as she entered, and prevented her further greeting byexclaiming:

"Patience! patience! You shall be told all. Only I did not want toworry you on the day of the festival of the dead. And besides, to-morrowperhaps he will be in a better frame of mind, and next day--"

Melissa became urgent. "If Philip is ill--" she put in. 

"Not exactly ill, " said he. "He has no fever, no ague-fit, no aches andpains. He is not in bed, and has no bitter draughts to swallow. Yet ishe not well, any more than I, though but just now, in the dining-hall atthe Elephant, I ate like a starving wolf, and could at this moment jumpover this table. Shall I prove it?"

"No, no, " said his sister, in growing distress. "But, if you love me, tell me at once and plainly--"At once and plainly, " sighed the painter. "That, in any case, will not be easy. But I will do my best. You knewKorinna?"

"Seleukus's daughter?"

"She herself--the maiden from whose corpse I am painting her portrait. "

"No. But you wanted--"

"I wanted to be brief, but I care even more to be understood; and if youhave never seen with your own eyes, if you do not yourself know what amiracle of beauty the gods wrought when they molded that maiden, you areindeed justified in regarding me as a fool and Philip as a madman--which, thank the gods, he certainly is not yet. "

"Then he too has seen the dead maiden?"

"No, no. And yet--perhaps. That at present remains a mystery. I hardlyknow what happened even to myself. I succeeded in controlling myself inmy father's presence; but now, when it all rises up before me, before myvery eyes, so distinct, so real, so tangible, now--by Sirius! Melissa, if you interrupt me again--"

"Begin again. I will be silent, " she cried. "I can easily picture yourKorinna as a divinely beautiful creature. "

Alexander raised his hands to heaven, exclaiming with passionatevehemence: "Oh, how would I praise and glorify the gods, who formed thatmarvel of their art, and my mouth should be full of their grace andmercy, if they had but allowed the world to sun itself in the charm ofthat glorious creature, and to worship their everlasting beauty in herwho was their image! But they have wantonly destroyed their ownmasterpiece, have crushed the scarce-opened bud, have darkened the starere it has risen! If a man had done it, Melissa, a man what would hisdoom have been! If he--"

Here the youth hid his face in his hands in passionate emotion; but, feeling his sister's arm round his shoulder, he recovered himself, andwent on more calmly: "Well, you heard that she was dead. She was of justyour age; she is dead at eighteen, and her father commissioned me topaint her in death. --Pour me out some water; then I will proceed ascoldly as a man crying the description of a runaway slave. " He drank adeep draught, and wandered restlessly up and down in front of his sister, while he told her all that had happened to him during the last few days. 

The day before yesterday, at noon, he had left the inn where he had beencarousing with friends, gay and careless, and had obeyed the call ofSeleukus. Just before raising the knocker he had been singing cheerfullyto himself. Never had he felt more fully content--the gayest of the gay. One of the first men in the town, and a connoisseur, had honored him witha fine commission, and the prospect of painting something dead hadpleased him. His old master had often admired the exquisite delicacy ofthe flesh-tones of a recently deceased body. As his glance fell on theimplements that his slave carried after him, he had drawn himself up withthe proud feeling of having before him a noble task, to which he feltequal. Then the porter, a gray-bearded Gaul, had opened the door to him, and as he looked into his care-worn face and received from him a silentpermission to step in, he had already become more serious. 

He had heard marvels of the magnificence of the house that he nowentered; and the lofty vestibule into which he was admitted, the mosaicfloor that he trod; the marble statues and high reliefs round the upperhart of the walls, were well worth careful observation; yet he, whoseeyes usually carried away so vivid an impression of what he had once seenthat he could draw it from memory, gave no attention to any particularthing among the various objects worthy of admiration. For already in theanteroom a peculiar sensation had come over him. The large halls, whichwere filled with odors of ambergris and incense, were as still as thegrave. And it seemed to him that even the sun, which had been shiningbrilliantly a few minutes before in a cloudless sky, had disappearedbehind clouds, for a strange twilight, unlike anything he had ever seen, surrounded him. Then he perceived that it came in through the blackvelarium with which they had closed the open roof of the room throughwhich he was passing. 

In the anteroom a young freedman had hurried silently past him--hadvanished like a shadow through the dusky rooms. His duty must have beento announce the artist's arrival to the mother of the dead girl; for, before Alexander had found time to feast his gaze on the luxurious massof flowering plants that surrounded the fountain in the middle of theimpluvium, a tall matron, in flowing mourning garments, came towards him--Korinna's mother. 

Without lifting the black veil which enveloped her from head to foot, shespeechlessly signed him to follow her. Till this moment not even awhisper had met his ear from any human lips in this house of death andmourning; and the stillness was so oppressive to the light-hearted youngpainter, that, merely to hear the sound of his own voice, he ex-plainedto the lady who he was and wherefore he had come. But the only answerwas a dumb assenting bow of the head. 

He had not far to go with his stately guide; their walk ended in aspacious room. It had been made a perfect flower-garden with hundreds ofmagnificent plants; piles of garlands strewed the floor, and in the midststood the couch on which lay the dead girl. In this hall, too, reignedthe same gloomy twilight which had startled him in the vestibule. 

The dim, shrouded form lying motionless on the couch before him, with aheavy wreath of lotus-flowers and white roses encircling it from head tofoot, was the subject for his brush. He was to paint here, where hecould scarcely distinguish one plant from another, or make out the formof the vases which stood round the bed of death. The white blossomsalone gleamed like pale lights in the gloom, and with a sister radiancesomething smooth and round which lay on the couch--the bare arm of thedead maiden. 

His heart began to throb; the artist's love of his art had awaked withinhim; he had collected his wits, and explained to the matron that to paintin the darkness was impossible. 

Again she bowed in reply, but at a signal two waiting women, who weresquatting on the floor behind the couch, started up in the twilight, asif they had sprung from the earth, and approached their mistress. 

A fresh shock chilled the painter's blood, for at the same moment thelady's voice was suddenly audible close to his ear, almost as deep as aman's but not unmelodious, ordering the girls to draw back the curtain asfar as the painter should desire. 

Now, he felt, the spell was broken; curiosity and eagerness took theplace of reverence for death. He quietly gave his orders for thenecessary arrangements, lent the women the help of his stronger arm, tookout his painting implements, and then requested the matron to unveil thedead girl, that he might see from which side it would be best to take theportrait. But then again he was near losing his composure, for the ladyraised her veil, and measured him with a glance as though he had askedsomething strange and audacious indeed. 

Never had he met so piercing a glance from any woman's eyes; and yet theywere red with weeping and full of tears. Bitter grief spoke in everyline of her still youthful features, and their stern, majestic beauty wasin keeping with the deep tones of her speech. Oh that he had been sohappy as to see this woman in the bloom of youthful loveliness! She didnot heed his admiring surprise; before acceding to his demand, her regalform trembled from head to foot, and she sighed as she lifted the shroudfrom her daughter's face. Then, with a groan, she dropped on her kneesby the couch and laid her cheek against that of the dead maiden. At lastshe rose, and murmured to the painter that if he were successful in histask her gratitude would be beyond expression. 

"What more she said, " Alexander went on, "I could but half understand, for she wept all the time, and I could not collect my thoughts. It wasnot till afterward that I learned from her waiting-woman--a Christian--that she meant to tell me that the relations and wailing women were tocome to-morrow morning. I could paint on till nightfall, but no longer. I had been chosen for the task because Seleukus had heard from my oldteacher, Bion, that I should get a faithful likeness of the original morequickly than any one else. She may have said more, but I heard nothing;I only saw. For when the veil no longer hid that face from my gaze, Ifelt as though the gods had revealed a mystery to me which till now onlythe immortals had been permitted to know. Never was my soul so steepedin devotion, never had my heart beat in such solemn uplifting as at thatmoment. What I was gazing at and had to represent was a thing neitherhuman nor divine; it was beauty itself--that beauty of which I have oftendreamed in blissful rapture. 

"And yet--do not misapprehend me--I never thought of bewailing themaiden, or grieving over her early death. She was but sleeping--I couldfancy: I watched one I loved in her slumbers. My heart beat high! Ay, child, and the work I did was pure joy, such joy as only the gods onOlympus know at their golden board. Every feature, every line was ofsuch perfection as only the artist's soul can conceive of, nay, evendream of. The ecstasy remained, but my unrest gave way to anindescribable and wordless bliss. I drew with the red chalk, and mixedthe colors with the grinder, and all the while I could not feel thepainful sense of painting a corpse. If she were slumbering, she hadfallen asleep with bright images in her memory. I even fancied again andagain that her lips moved her exquisitely chiseled mouth, and that afaint breath played with her abundant, waving, shining brown hair, as itdoes with yours. 

"The Muse sped my hand and the portrait--Bion and the rest will praiseit, I think, though it is no more like the unapproachable original thanthat lamp is like the evening star yonder. "

"And shall we be allowed to see it?" asked Melissa, who had beenlistening breathlessly to her brother's narrative. 

The words seemed to have snatched the artist from a dream. He had topause and consider where he was and to whom he was speaking. He hastilypushed the curling hair off his damp brow, and said:

"I do not understand. What is it you ask?"

"I only asked whether we should be allowed to see the portrait, " sheanswered timidly. "I was wrong to interrupt you. But how hot your headis! Drink again before you go on. Had you really finished by sundown?"

Alexander shook his head, drank, and then went on more calmly: "No, no!It is a pity you spoke. In fancy I was painting her still. There is themoon rising already. I must make haste. I have told you all this forPhilip's sake, not for my own. "

"I will not interrupt you again, I assure you, " said Melissa. "Well, well, " said her brother. "There is not much that is pleasant leftto tell. Where was I?"

"Painting, so long as it was light--"

"To be sure--I remember. It began to grow dark. Then lamps were broughtin, large ones, and as many as I wished for. Just before sunsetSeleukus, Korinna's father, came in to look upon his daughter once more. He bore his grief with dignified composure; yet by his child's bier hefound it hard to be calm. But you can imagine all that. He invited me toeat, and the food they brought might have tempted a full man to excess, but I could only swallow a few mouthfuls. Berenike--the mother--did noteven moisten her lips, but Seleukus did duty for us both, and this Icould see displeased his wife. During supper the merchant made manyinquiries about me and my father; for he had heard Philip's praises fromhis brother Theophilus, the high-priest. I learned from him that Korinnahad caught her sickness from a slave girl she had nursed, and had died ofthe fever in three days. But while I sat listening to him, as he talkedand ate, I could not keep my eyes off his wife who reclined opposite tome silent and motionless, for the gods had created Korinna in her veryimage. The lady Berenike's eyes indeed sparkle with a lurid, I mightalmost say an alarming, fire, but they are shaped like Korinna's. I saidso, and asked whether they were of the same color; I wanted to know formy portrait. On this Seleukus referred me to a picture painted by oldSosibius, who has lately gone to Rome to work in Caesar's new baths. Helast year painted the wall of a room in the mer chant's country house atKanopus. In the center of the picture stands Galatea, and I know it nowto be a good and true likeness. 

"The picture I finished that evening is to be placed at the head of theyoung girl's sarcophagus; but I am to keep it two days longer, toreproduce a second likeness more at my leisure, with the help of theGalatea, which is to remain in Seleukus's town house. 

"Then he left me alone with his wife. 

"What a delightful commission! I set to work with renewed pleasure, andmore composure than at first. I had no need to hurry, for the firstpicture is to be hidden in the tomb, and I could give all my care to thesecond. Besides, Korinna's features were indelibly impressed on my eye. 

"I generally can not paint at all by lamp-light; but this time I found nodifficulty, and I soon recovered that blissful, solemn mood which I hadfelt in the presence of the dead. Only now and then it was clouded by asigh, or a faint moan from Berenike: 'Gone, gone! There is no comfort--none, none!'

"And what could I answer? When did Death ever give back what he hassnatched away?

"' I can not even picture her as she was, ' she murmured sadly to herself--but this I might remedy by the help of my art, so I painted on withincreasing zeal; and at last her lamentations ceased to trouble me, forshe fell asleep, and her handsome head sank on her breast. The watchers, too, had dropped asleep, and only their deep breathing broke thestillness. 

"Suddenly it flashed upon me that I was alone with Korinna, and thefeeling grew stronger and stronger; I fancied her lovely lips had moved, that a smile gently parted them, inviting me to kiss them. As often as Ilooked at them--and they bewitched me--I saw and felt the same, and atlast every impulse within me drove me toward her, and I could no longerresist: my lips pressed hers in a kiss!"

Melissa softly sighed, but the artist did not hear; he went on: "And inthat kiss I became hers; she took the heart and soul of me. I can nolonger escape from her; awake or asleep, her image is before my eyes, andmy spirit is in her power. "

Again he drank, emptying the cup at one deep gulp. Then he went on:"So be it! Who sees a god, they say, must die. And it is well, for hehas known something more glorious than other men. Our brother Philip, too, lives with his heart in bonds to that one alone, unless a demon hascheated his senses. I am troubled about him, and you must help me. "

He sprang up, pacing the room again with long strides, but his sisterclung to his arm and besought him to shake off the bewitching vision. How earnest was her prayer, what eager tenderness rang in her every word, as she entreated him to tell her when and where her elder brother, too, had met the daughter of Seleukus!

The artist's soft heart was easily moved. Stroking the hair of theloving creature at his side--so helpful as a rule, but now bewildered--he tried to calm her by affecting a lighter mood than he really felt, assuring her that he should soon recover his usual good spirits. Sheknew full well, he said, that his living loves changed in frequentsuccession, and it would be strange indeed if a dead one could bind himany longer. And his adventure, so far as it concerned the house ofSeleukus, ended with that kiss; for the lady Berenike had presentlywaked, and urged him to finish the portrait at his own house. 

Next morning he had completed it with the help of the Galatea in thevilla at Kanopus, and he had heard a great deal about the dead maiden. A young woman who was left in charge of the villa had supplied him withwhatever he needed. Her pretty face was swollen with weeping, and it wasin a voice choked with tears that she had told him that her husband, whowas a centurion in Caesar's pretorian guard, would arrive to-morrow ornext day at Alexandria, with his imperial master. She had not seen himfor a long time, and had an infant to show him which he had not yet seen;and yet she could not be glad, for her young mistress's death hadextinguished all her joy. 

"The affection which breathed in every word of the centurion's wife, "Alexander said, "helped me in my work. I could be satisfied with theresult. 

"The picture is so successful that I finished that for Seleukus in allconfidence, and for the sarcophagus I will copy it as well or as ill astime will allow. It will hardly be seen in the half-dark tomb, and howfew will ever go to see it! None but a Seleukus can afford to employ socostly a brush as your brother's is--thank the Muses! But the secondportrait is quite another thing, for that may chance to be hung next apicture by Apelles; and it must restore to the parents so much of theirlost child as it lies in my power to give them. So, on my way, I made upmy mind to begin the copy at once by lamp-light, for it must be ready byto-morrow night at latest. 

"I hurried to my work-room, and my slave placed the picture on an easel, while I welcomed my brother Philip who had come to see me, and who hadlighted a lamp, and of course had brought a book. He was so absorbed init that he did not observe that I had come in till I addressed him. ThenI told him whence I came and what had happened, and he thought it allvery strange and interesting. 

"He was as usual rather hurried and hesitating, not quite clear, butunderstanding it all. Then he began telling me something about aphilosopher who has just come to the front, a porter by trade, from whomhe had heard sundry wonders, and it was not till Syrus brought me in asupper of oysters--for I could still eat nothing more solid--that heasked to see the portrait. 

"I pointed to the easel, and watched him; for the harder he is to please, the more I value his opinion. This time I felt confident of praise, oreven of some admiration, if only for the beauty of the model. 

"He threw off the veil from the picture with a hasty movement, but, instead of gazing at it calmly, as he is wont, and snapping out his sharpcriticisms, he staggered backward, as though the noonday sun had dazzledhis sight. Then, bending forward, he stared at the painting, panting ashe might after racing for a wager. He stood in perfect silence, for Iknow not how long, as though it were Medusa he was gazing on, and when atlast he clasped his hand to his brow, I called him by name. He made noreply, but an impatient 'Leave me alone!' and then he still gazed at theface as though to devour it with his eyes, and without a sound. 

"I did not disturb him; for, thought I, he too is bewitched by theexquisite beauty of those virgin features. So we were both silent, tillhe asked, in a choked voice: 'And did you paint that? Is that, do yousay, the daughter that Seleukus has just lost?'

"Of course I said 'Yes'; but then he turned on me in a rage, andreproached me bitterly for deceiving and cheating him, and jesting withthings that to him were sacred, though I might think them a subject forsport. 

"I assured him that my answer was as earnest as it was accurate, and thatevery word of my story was true. 

"This only made him more furious. I, too, began to get angry, and as he, evidently deeply agitated, still persisted in saying that my picturecould not have been painted from the dead Korinna, I swore to himsolemnly, with the most sacred oath I could think of, that it was reallyso. 

"On this he declared to me in words so tender and touching as I neverbefore heard from his lips, that if I were deceiving him his peace ofmind would be forever destroyed-nay, that he feared for his reason; andwhen I had repeatedly assured him, by the memory of our departed mother, that I had never dreamed of playing a trick upon him, he shook his head, grasped his brow, and turned to leave the room without another word. "

"And you let him go?" cried Melissa, in anxious alarm. 

"Certainly not, " replied the painter. "On the contrary, I stood in hisway, and asked him whether he had known Korinna, and what all this mightmean. But he would make no reply, and tried to pass me and get away. It must have been a strange scene, for we two big men struggled as if wewere at a wrestling-match. I got him down with one hand behind hisknees, and so he had to remain; and when I had promised to let him go, heconfessed that he had seen Korinna at the house of her uncle, the high-priest, without knowing who she was or even speaking a word to her. Andhe, who usually flees from every creature wearing a woman's robe, hadnever forgotten that maiden and her noble beauty; and, though he did notsay so, it was obvious, from every word, that he was madly in love. Her eyes had followed him wherever he went, and this he deemed a greatmisfortune, for it had disturbed his power of thought. A month since hewent across Lake Mareotis to Polybius to visit Andreas, and while, on hisreturn, he was standing on the shore, he saw her again, with an old manin white robes. But the last time he saw her was on the morning of thevery day when all this happened; and if he is to be believed, he not onlysaw her but touched her hand. That, again, was by the lake; she was juststepping out of the ferry-boat. The obolus she had ready to pay theoarsman dropped on the ground, and Philip picked it up and returned itto her. Then his fingers touched hers. He could feel it still, hedeclared, and yet she had then ceased to walk among the living. 

"Then it was my turn to doubt his word; but he maintained that his storywas true in every detail; he would hear nothing said about some oneresembling her, or anything of the kind, and spoke of daimons showinghim false visions, to cheat him and hinder him from working out hisinvestigations of the real nature of things to a successful issue. Butthis is in direct antagonism to his views of daimons; and when at last herushed out of the house, he looked like one possessed of evil spirits. 

"I hurried after him, but he disappeared down a dark alley. Then I hadenough to do to finish my copy, and yesterday I carried it home toSeleukus. 

"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 huntingfor him since early in the morning. I even forgot to lay any flowers onmy mother's grave, as usual on the day of the Nekysia, because I wasthinking 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 atSeleukus's house told me that a man, who said he was my brother, hadtwice called, and had eagerly inquired whether my picture had yet beenattached to Korinna's sarcophagus. The old man told him it had not, because, of course, the embalming could not be complete as yet. But thepicture was to be displayed to-day, as being the feast of the dead, inthe 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 whichhe may be brought to his senses, and released from these crazyimaginings. "

"The first thing to be done, " Melissa exclaimed, "is to follow him andtalk to him. -Wait a moment; I must speak a word to the slaves. Myfather's night-draught can be mixed in a minute. He might perhaps returnhome before us, and I must leave his couch--I will be with you in aminute. "

CHAPTER III. 

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

As they skirted the town walls they took counsel together. 

Being perfectly agreed that the girl who had touched Philip's hand couldcertainly be no daimon who had assumed Korinna's form, they were inclinedto accept the view that a strong resemblance had deceived their brother. They finally decided that Alexander should try to discover the maiden whoso 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 sucha weight on it before. The hope of meeting with a living creature whoresembled that fair dead maiden, combined with his wish to rescue hisbrother from the disorder of mind which threatened him; and Melissaperceived with glad surprise how quickly this new object in life restoredthe youth's happy temper. 

It was she who spoke most, and Alexander, whom nothing escaped that hadany 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 myfather for burying her as he does his gold. "

It was not in his nature to keep anything that stirred him deeply tohimself, when he was in the society of another, so he murmured to hissister: "It is just as well that the Macedonian youths of this cityshould not be able to see what a jewel our old man's house contains. --Look how brightly Selene shines on us, and how gloriously the starsburn! Nowhere do the heavens blaze more brilliantly than here. As soonas we come out of the shadow that the great walls cast on the road weshall be in broad light. There is the Serapeum rising out of thedarkness. They are rehearsing the great illumination which is to dazzlethe eyes of Caesar when he comes. But they must show too, that to-night, at least, the gods of the nether world and death are all awake. You cannever have been in the Nekropolis at so late an hour before. "

"How should I?" replied the girl. And he expressed the pleasure that itgave him to be able to show her for the first time the wonderful nightscene of such a festival. And when he heard the deep-drawn "Ah!" withwhich she hailed the sight of the greatest temple of all, blazing in themidst of the darkness with tar-pans, torches, and lamps innumerable, hereplied with as much pride and satisfaction as though she owed thedisplay to him, "Ay, what do you think of that?"

Above the huge stone edifice which was thus lighted up, the dome of theSerapeum rose high into the air, its summit appearing to touch the sky. Never had the gigantic structure seemed so beautiful to the girl, who hadonly seen it by daylight; for under the illumination, arranged by amaster-hand, every line stood out more clearly than in the sunlight; andin the presence of this wonderful sight Melissa's impressionable youngsoul forgot the trouble that had weighed on it, and her heart beathigher. 

Her lonely life with her father had hitherto fully satisfied her, and shehad, never yet dreamed of anything better in the future than a quiet andmodest existence, caring for him and her brothers; but now she thankfullyexperienced the pleasure of seeing for once something really grand andfine, and rejoiced at having escaped for a while from the monotony ofeach day and hour. 

Once, too, she had been with her brothers and Diodoros, Alexander'sgreatest friend, to see a wild-beast fight, followed by a combat ofgladiators; but she had come home frightened and sorrowful, for what shehad seen had horrified more than it had interested her. Some of thekilled and tortured beings haunted her mind; and, besides, sitting in thelowest and best seats belonging to Diodoros's wealthy father, she hadbeen stared at so boldly and defiantly whenever she raised her eyes, by ayoung gallant opposite, that she had felt vexed and insulted; nay, hadwished above all things to get home as soon as possible. And yet she hadloved Diodoros from her childhood, and she would have enjoyed sittingquietly by his side more than looking on at the show. 

But on this occasion her curiosity was gratified, and the hope of beingable to help one who was dear to her filled her with quiet gladness. It was a comfort to her, too, to find herself once more by her mother'sgrave with Alexander, who was her especial friend. She could never comehere often enough, and the blessing which emanated from it--of that shewas convinced--must surely fall on her brother also, and avert from himall that grieved his heart. 

As they walked on between the Serapeum on one hand, towering high aboveall else, and the Stadium on the other, the throng was dense; on thebridge over the canal it was difficult to make any progress. Now, as thefull moon rose, the sacrifices and games in honor of the gods of theunder world were beginning, and now the workshops and factories hademptied themselves into the streets already astir for the festival of thedead, so every moment the road became more crowded. 

Such a tumult was generally odious to her retiring nature; but to-nightshe felt herself merely one drop in the great, flowing river, of whichevery other drop felt the same impulse which was carrying her forward toher destination. The desire to show the dead that they were notforgotten, that their favor was courted and hoped for, animated men andwomen, old and young alike. 

There were few indeed who had not a wreath or a posy in their hands, orcarried behind them by a slave. In front of the brother and sister was alarge family of children. A black nurse carried the youngest on hershoulder, and an ass bore a basket in which were flowers for the tomb, with a wineflask and eatables. A memorial banquet was to be held at thegrave of their ancestors; and the little one, whose golden head roseabove the black, woolly poll of the negress, nodded gayly in response toMelissa's smiles. The children were enchanted at the prospect of a mealat such an unusual hour, and their parents rejoiced in them and in thesolemn pleasure they anticipated. 

Many a one in this night of remembrance only cared to recall the happyhours spent in the society of the beloved dead; others hoped to leavetheir grief and pain behind them, and find fresh courage and contentmentin the City of the Dead; for tonight the gates of the nether world stoodopen, and now, if ever, the gods that reigned there would accept theofferings and hear the prayers of the devout. 

Those lean Egyptians, who pushed past in silence and haranging theirheads, were no doubt bent on carrying offerings to Osiris and Anubis--forthe festival of the gods of death and resurrection coincided with theNekysia--and on winning their favors by magical formulas and spells. 

Everything was plainly visible, for the desert tract of the Nekropolis, where at this hour utter darkness and silence usually reigned, wasbrightly lighted up. Still, the blaze failed to banish entirely thethrill of fear which pervaded the spot at night; for the unwonted glaredazzled and bewildered the bats and night-birds, and they fluttered aboutover the heads of the intruders in dark, ghostly flight. Many a onebelieved them to be the unresting souls of condemned sinners, and lookedup at them with awe. 

Melissa drew her veil closer and clung more tightly to her brother, for asound of singing and wild cries, which she had heard behind her for sometime, was now coming closer. They were no longer treading the pavedstreet, but the hard-beaten soil of the desert. The crush was over, forhere the crowd could spread abroad; but the uproarious troop, which shedid not even dare to look at, came rushing past quite close to them. They were Greeks, of all ages and of both sexes. The men flourishedtorches, and were shouting a song with unbridled vehemence; the women, wearing garlands, kept up with them. What they carried in the basketson their heads could not be seen, nor did Alexander know; for so manyreligious brotherhoods and mystic societies existed here that it wasimpossible to guess to which this noisy troop might belong. 

The pair had presently overtaken a little train of white-robed men movingforward at a solemn pace, whom the painter recognized as thephilosophical and religious fraternity of the Neo-Pythagoreans, when asmall knot of men and women in the greatest excitement came rushing pastas if they were mad. The men wore the loose red caps of their Phrygianland; the women carried bowls full of fruits. Some beat small drums, others clanged cymbals, and each hauled his neighbor along with deafeningcries, faster and faster, till the dust hid them from sight and a new dindrowned the last, for the votaries of Dionysus were already close uponthem, and vied with the Phrygians in uproariousness. But this wild troopremained behind; for one of the light-colored oxen, covered withdecorations, which was being driven in the procession by a party of menand boys, to be presently sacrificed, had broken away, maddened by thelights and the shouting, and had to be caught and led again. 

At last they reached the graveyard. But even now they could not maketheir way to the long row of houses where the embalmers dwelt, for animpenetrable mass of human beings stood pent up in front of them, andMelissa begged her brother to give her a moment's breathing space. 

All she had seen and heard on the way had excited her greatly; but shehad scarcely for a moment forgotten what it was that had brought her outso late, who it was that she sought, or that it would need her utmostendeavor to free him from the delusion that had fooled him. In thisdense throng and deafening tumult it was scarcely possible to recoverthat collected calm which she had found in the morning at her mother'stomb. In that, doubt had had no part, and the delightful feeling offreedom which had shone on her soul, now shrank deep into the shadebefore a growing curiosity and the longing for her usual repose. 

If her father were to find her here! When she saw a tall figureresembling his cross the torchlight, all clouded as it was by the dust, she drew her brother away behind the stall of a seller of drinks andother refreshments. The father, at any rate, must be spared the distressshe felt about Philip, who was his favorite. Besides, she knew full wellthat, if he met her here, he would at once take her home. 

The question now was where Philip might be found. 

They were standing close to the booths where itinerant dealers soldfood and liquors of every description, flowers and wreaths, amulets andpapyrus-leaves, with strange charms written on them to secure health forthe living and salvation for the souls of the dead. An astrologer, who foretold the course of a man's life from the position of the planets, had erected a high platform with large tables displayed to view, and theinstrument wherewith he aimed at the stars as it were with a bow; and hisSyrian slave, accompanying himself on a gayly-painted drum, proclaimedhis master's powers. There were closed tents in which magical remedieswere to be obtained, though their open sale was forbidden by theauthorities, from love-philters to the wondrous fluid which, if rightlyapplied, would turn lead, copper, or silver to gold. Here, old womeninvited the passer-by to try Thracian and other spells; there, magiciansstalked to and fro in painted caps and flowing, gaudy robes, most of themcalling themselves priests of some god of the abyss. Men of every raceand tongue that dwelt in the north of Africa, or on the shores of theMediterranean, were packed in a noisy throng. 

The greatest press was behind the houses of the men who buried the dead. Here sacrifices were offered on the altars of Serapis, Isis, and Anubis;here the sacred sistrum of Isis might be kissed; here hundreds of priestsperformed solemn ceremonies, and half of those who came hither for thefestival of the dead collected about them. The mysteries were alsoperformed here, beginning before midnight; and a dramatic representationmight be seen of the woes of Isis, and the resurrection of her husbandOsiris. But neither here, nor at the stalls, nor among the graves, wheremany families were feasting by torchlight and pouring libations in thesand for the souls of the dead, did Alexander expect to find his brother. Nor would Philip be attending the mysterious solemnities of any of thefraternities. He had witnessed them often enough with his friendDiodoros, who never missed the procession to Eleusis, because, as hedeclared, the mysteries of Demeter alone could assure a man of theimmortality of the soul. The wild ceremonies of the Syrians, who maimedthemselves in their mad ecstasy, repelled him as being coarse andbarbarous. 

As she made her way through this medley of cults, this worship of godsso different that they were in some cases hostile, but more often mergedinto each other, Melissa wondered to which she ought to turn in herpresent need. Her mother had best loved to sacrifice to Serapis andIsis. But since, in her last sickness, Melissa had offered everythingshe possessed to these divinities of healing, and all in vain, and sinceshe had heard things in the Serapeum itself which even now brought ablush to her cheek, she had turned away from the great god of theAlexandrians. Though he who had offended her by such base proposals wasbut a priest of the lower grade--and indeed, though she knew it not, wassince dead--she feared meeting him again, and had avoided the sanctuarywhere he officiated. 

She was a thorough Alexandrian, and had been accustomed from childhood tolisten to the philosophical disputations of the men about her. So sheperfectly understood her brother Philip, the skeptic, when he said thathe by no means denied the existence of the immortals, but that, on theother hand, he could not believe in it; that thought brought him noconviction; that man, in short, could be sure of nothing, and so couldknow nothing whatever of the divinity. He had even denied, on logicalgrounds, the goodness and omnipotence of the gods, the wisdom and fitnessof the ordering of the universe, and Melissa was proud of her brother'sacumen; but what appeals to the brain only, and not to the heart, can notmove a woman to anything great--least of all to a decisive change of lifeor feeling. So the girl had remained constant to her mother's faith insome mighty powers outside herself, which guided the life of Nature andof human beings. Only she did not feel that she had found the true god, either in Serapis or Isis, and so she had sought others. Thus she hadformulated a worship of ancestors, which, as she had learned from theslave-woman of her friend Ino, was not unfamiliar to the Egyptians. 

In Alexandria there were altars to every god, and worship in every form. Hers, however, was not among them, for the genius of her creed was theenfranchised soul of her mother, who had cast off the burden of thisperishable body. Nothing had ever come from her that was not good andlovely; and she knew that if her mother were permitted, even in someother than human form, she would never cease to watch over her withtender care. 

And those initiated into the Eleusinian mysteries, as Diodoros had toldher, desired the immortality of the soul, to the end that they mightcontinue to participate in the life of those whom they had left behind. What was it that brought such multitudes at this time out to theNekropolis, with their hands full of offerings, but the consciousnessof their nearness to the dead, and of being cared for by them so long asthey were not forgotten? And even if the glorified spirit of her motherwere not permitted to hear her prayers, she need not therefore cease toturn to her; for it comforted her unspeakably to be with her in spirit, and to confide to her all that moved her soul. And so her mother's tombhad become her favorite place of rest. Here, if anywhere, she now hopedonce more to find comfort, some happy suggestion, and perhaps somedefinite assistance. 

She begged Alexander to take her thither, and he consented, though he wasof opinion that Philip would be found in the mortuary chamber, in thepresence of Korinna's portrait. 

It was not easy to force their way through the thousands who had come outto the great show this night; however, most of the visitors wereattracted by the mysteries far away from the Macedonian burial-ground, and there was little to disturb the silence near the fine marble monumentwhich Alexander, to gratify his father, had erected with his first largeearnings. It was hung with various garlands, and Melissa, before sheprayed and anointed the stone, examined them with eye and hand. 

Those which she and her father had placed there she recognized at once. That humble garland of reeds with two lotus-flowers was the gift of theirold slave Argutis and his wife Dido. This beautiful wreath of choiceflowers had come from the garden of a neighbor who had loved her motherwell; and that splendid basketful of lovely roses, which had not beenthere this morning, had been placed here by Andreas, steward to thefather of her young friend Diodoros, although he was of the Christiansect. And these were all. Philip had not been here then, though it wasnow past midnight. 

For the first time in his life he had let this day pass by without athought for their dead. How bitterly this grieved Melissa, and evenadded to her anxiety for him!

It was with a heavy heart that she and Alexander anointed the tombstone;and while Melissa uplifted her hands in prayer, the painter stood insilence, his eyes fixed on the ground. But no sooner had she let themfall, than he exclaimed:

"He is here, I am sure, and in the house of the embalmers. That heordered two wreaths is perfectly certain; and if he meant one forKorinna's picture, he surely intended the other for our mother. If hehas offered both to the young girl--"

"No, no!" Melissa put in. "He will bring his gift. Let us wait here alittle while, and do you, too, pray to the manes of our mother. Do it toplease me. "

But her brother interrupted her eagerly I think of her wherever I maybe; for those we truly love always live for us. Not a day passes, nor ifI come in sober, not a night, when I do not see her dear face, eitherwaking or dreaming. Of all things sacred, the thought of her is thehighest; and if she had been raised to divine honors like the deadCaesars who have brought so many curses on the world--"

"Hush--don't speak so loud!" said Melissa, seriously, for men weremoving to and fro among the tombs, and Roman guards kept watch over thepopulace. 

But the rash youth went on in the same tone:

"I would worship her gladly, though I have forgotten how to pray. Forwho can tell here--unless he follows the herd and worships Serapis--whocan tell to which god of them all he shall turn when he happens to be athis wits' end? While my mother lived, I, like you, could gladly worshipand sacrifice to the immortals; but Philip has spoiled me for all that. As to the divine Caesars, every one thinks as I do. My mother wouldsooner have entered a pesthouse than the banqueting-hall where theyfeast, on Olympus. Caracalla among the gods! Why, Father Zeus cast hisson Hephaistos on earth from the height of Olympus, and only broke hisleg; but our Caesar accomplished a more powerful throw, for he cast hisbrother through the earth into the nether world--an imperial thrust--andnot merely lamed him but killed him. "

"Well done!" said a deep voice, interrupting the young artist. "Is thatyou, Alexander? Hear what new titles to fame Heron's son can find forthe imperial guest who is to arrive to-morrow. "

"Pray hush!" Melissa besought him, looking up at the bearded man who hadlaid his arm on Alexander's shoulder. It was Glaukias the sculptor, herfather's tenant; for his work-room stood on the plot of ground by thegarden of Hermes, which the gem-cutter had inherited from his father-in-law. 

The man's bold, manly features were flushed with wine and revelry; histwinkling eyes sparkled, and the ivy-leaves still clinging to his curlyhair showed that he had been one in the Dionysiac revellers; but theGreek blood which ran in his veins preserved his grace even indrunkenness. He bowed gayly to the young girl, and exclaimed to hiscompanions:

"The youngest pearl in Alexandria's crown of beauties!" while Bion, Alexander's now gray-haired master, clapped the youth on the arm, andadded: "Yes, indeed, see what the little thing has grown! Do youremember, pretty one, how you once--how many years ago, I wonder?--spotted your little white garments all over with red dots! I can see younow, your tiny finger plunged into the pot of paint, and then carefullyprinting off the round pattern all over the white linen. Why, the littlepainter has become a Hebe, a Charis, or, better still, a sweetly dreamingPsyche. "

"Ay, ay!" said Glaukias again. "My worthy landlord has a charming model. He has not far to seek for a head for his best gems. His son, a Helios, or the great Macedonian whose name he bears; his daughter--you are right, Bion--the maid beloved of Eros. Now, if you can make verses, my youngfriend of the Muses, give us an epigram in a line or two which we maybear in mind as a compliment to our imperial visitor. "

"But not here--not in the burial-ground, " Melissa urged once more. 

Among Glaukias's companions was Argeios, a vain and handsome young poet, with scented locks betraying him from afar, who was fain to display thepromptness of his poetical powers; and, even while the elder artist wasspeaking, he had run Alexander's satirical remarks into the mold ofrhythm. Not to save his life could he have suppressed the hastilyconceived distich, or have let slip such a justifiable claim to applause. So, without heeding Melissa's remonstrance, he flung his sky-blue mantleabout him in fresh folds, and declaimed with comical emphasis:

 "Down to earth did the god cast his son: but with mightier hand Through it, to Hades, Caesar flung his brother the dwarf. "

The versifier was rewarded by a shout of laughter, and, spurred by theapproval of his friends, he declared he had hit on the mode to which tosing his lines, as he did in a fine, full voice. 

But there was another poet, Mentor, also of the party, and as he couldnot be happy under his rival's triumph, he exclaimed: "The great dyer--for you know he uses blood instead of the Tyrian shell--has nothing ofFather Zeus about him that I can see, but far more of the greatAlexander, whose mausoleum he is to visit to-morrow. And if you wouldlike to know wherein the son of Severus resembles the giant of Macedon, you shall hear. "

He thrummed his thyrsus as though he struck the strings of a lyre, and, having ended the dumb prelude, he sang:

 "Wherein hath the knave Caracalla outdone Alexander? He killed a brother, the hero a friend, in his rage. "

These lines, however, met with no applause; for they were not so lightlyimprovised as the former distich, and it was clumsy and tasteless, aswell as dangerous thus to name, in connection with such a jest, thepotentate at whom it was aimed. And the fears of the jovial party wereonly too well founded, for a tall, lean Egyptian suddenly stood among theGreeks as if he had sprung from the earth. They were sobered at once, and, like a swarm of pigeons on which a hawk swoops down, they dispersedin all directions. 

Melissa beckoned to her brother to follow her; but the Egyptian intrudersnatched the mantle, quick as lightning, from Alexander's shoulders, andran off with it to the nearest pine-torch. The young man hurried afterthe thief, as he supposed him to be, but there the spy flung the cloakback to him, saying, in a tone of command, though not loud, for therewere still many persons among the graves:

"Hands off, son of Heron, unless you want me to call the watch! I haveseen your face by the light, and that is enough for this time. Now weknow each other, and we shall meet again in another place!"

With these words he vanished in the darkness, and Melissa asked, in greatalarm:

"In the name of all the gods, who was that?"

"Some rascally carpenter, or scribe, probably, who is in the service ofthe night-watch as a spy. At least those sort of folks are often builtaskew, as that scoundrel was, " replied Alexander, lightly. But he knewthe man only too well. It was Zminis, the chief of the spies to thenight patrol; a man who was particularly inimical to Heron, and whosehatred included the son, by whom he had been befooled and misled in morethan one wild ploy with his boon companions. This spy, whose cruelty andcunning were universally feared, might do him a serious mischief, and hetherefore did not tell his sister, to whom the name of Zminis was wellknown, who the listener was. 

He cut short all further questioning by desiring her to come at once tothe mortuary hall. 

"And if we do not find him there, " she said, "let us go home at once; Iam so frightened. "

"Yes, yes, " said her brother, vaguely. "If only we could meet some oneyou could join. "

"No, we will keep together, " replied Melissa, decisively; and simplyassenting, with a brief "All right, " the painter drew her arm throughhis, and they made their way through the now thinning crowd. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The houses of the embalmers, which earlier in the evening had shonebrightly out of the darkness, now made a less splendid display. The dustkicked up by the crowd dimmed the few lamps and torches which had not bythis time burned out or been extinguished, and an oppressive atmosphereof balsamic resin and spices met the brother and sister on the verythreshold. The vast hall which they now entered was one of a long row ofbuildings of unburned bricks; but the Greeks insisted on someornamentation of the simplest structure, if it served a public purpose, and the embalming-houses had a colonnade along their front, and theirwalls were covered with stucco, painted in gaudy colors, here in theEgyptian and there in the Greek taste. There were scenes from theEgyptian realm of the dead, and others from the Hellenic myths; for thepainters had been enjoined to satisfy the requirements and views ofvisitors of every race. The chief attraction, however, this night waswithin; for the men whose duties were exercised on the dead had displayedthe finest and best of what they had to offer to their customers. 

The ancient Greek practice of burning the dead had died out under theAntonines. Of old, the objects used to deck the pyre had also been onshow here; now there was nothing to be seen but what related to intermentor entombment. 

Side by side with the marble sarcophagus, or those of coarser stone, werewooden coffins and mummy-cases, with a place at the head for the portraitof the deceased. Vases and jars of every kind, amulets of various forms, spices and balsams in vials and boxes, little images in burned clay ofthe gods and of men, of which none but the Egyptians knew the allegoricalmeaning, stood in long rows on low wooden shelves. On the higher shelveswere mummy bands and shrouds, some coarse, others of the very finesttexture, wigs for the bald heads of shaven corpses, or woolen fillets, and simply or elaborately embroidered ribbons for the Greek dead. 

Nothing was lacking of the various things in use for decking the corpseof an Alexandrian, whatever his race or faith. 

Some mummy-cases, too, were there, ready to be packed off to other towns. The most costly were covered with fine red linen, wound about withstrings of beads and gold ornaments, and with the name of the deadpainted on the upper side. In a long, narrow room apart hung theportraits, waiting to be attached to the upper end of the mummy-cases ofthose lately deceased, and still in the hands of embalmers. Here, too, most of the lamps were out, and the upper end of the room was alreadydark. Only in the middle, where the best pictures were on show, thelights had been renewed. 

The portraits were painted on thin panels of sycamore or of cypress, andin most of them the execution betrayed that their destiny was to behidden in the gloom of a tomb. 

Alexander's portrait of Korinna was in the middle of the gallery, in agood light, and stood out from the paintings on each side of it as agenuine emerald amid green glass. It was constantly surrounded by acrowd of the curious and connoisseurs. They pointed out the beautifulwork to each other; but, though most of them acknowledged the skill ofthe master who had painted it, many ascribed its superiority to themagical charm of the model. One could see in those wonderfullyharmonious features that Aristotle was right when he discerned beautyin order and proportion; while another declared that he found there theevidence of Plato's doctrine of the identity of the good and thebeautiful--for this face was so lovely because it was the mirror of asoul which had been disembodied in the plenitude of maiden purity andvirtue, unjarred by any discord; and this gave rise to a vehementdiscussion as to the essential nature of beauty and of virtue. 

Others longed to know more about the early-dead original of thisenchanting portrait. Korinna's wealthy father and his brothers wereamong the best-known men of the city. The elder, Timotheus, was high-priest of the Temple of Serapis; and Zeno, the younger, had set thewhole world talking when he, who in his youth had been notoriouslydissipated, had retired from any concern in the corn-trade carried onby his family, the greatest business of the kind in the world, perhaps, and--for this was an open secret--had been baptized. 

The body of the maiden, when embalmed and graced with her portrait, wasto be transported to the family tomb in the district of Arsinoe, wherethey had large possessions, and the gossip of the embalmer was eagerlyswallowed as he expatiated on the splendor with which her liberal fatherproposed to escort her thither. 

Alexander and Melissa had entered the portrait-gallery before thebeginning of this narrative, and listened to it, standing behind severalrows of gazers who were between them and the portrait. 

As the speaker ceased, the little crowd broke up, and when Melissa couldat last see her brother's work at her ease, she stood speechless for sometime; and then she turned to the artist, and exclaimed, from the depthsof her heart, "Beauty is perhaps the noblest thing in the world!"

"It is, " replied Alexander, with perfect assurance. And he, bewitchedonce more by the spell which had held him by Korinna's couch, gazed intothe dark eyes in his own picture, whose living glance his had never met, and which he nevertheless had faithfully reproduced, giving them a lookof the longing of a pure soul for all that is lovely and worthy. 

Melissa, an artist's daughter, as she looked at this portrait, understoodwhat it was that had so deeply stirred her brother while he painted it;but this was not the place to tell him so. She soon tore herself away, to look about for Philip once more and then to be taken home. 

Alexander, too, was seeking Philip; but, sharp as the artist's eyes were, Melissa's seemed to be keener, for, just as they were giving it up andturning to go, she pointed to a dark corner and said softly, "There heis. "

And there, in fact, her brother was, sitting with two men, one very talland the other a little man, his brow resting on his hand in the deepshadow of a sarcophagus, between the wall and a mummy-case set on end, which till now had hidden him from Alexander and Melissa. 

Who could the man be who had kept the young philosopher, somewhatinaccessible in his pride of learning, so long in talk in that half-darkcorner? He was not one of the learned society at the Museum; Alexanderknew them all. Besides, he was not dressed like them, in the Greekfashion, but in the flowing robe of a Magian. And the stranger was aman of consequence, for he wore his splendid garment with a superior air, and as Alexander approached him he remembered having somewhere seen thistall, bearded figure, with the powerful head garnished with flowing andcarefully oiled black curls. Such handsome and well-chiseled features, such fine eyes, and such a lordly, waving beard were not easilyforgotten; his memory suddenly awoke and threw a light on the man as hesat in the gloom, and on the surroundings in which he had met him for thefirst time. 

It was at the feast of Dionysus. Among a drunken crowd, which wasrushing wildly along the streets, and which Alexander had joined, himselfone of the wildest, this man had marched, sober and dignified as he wasat this moment, in the same flowing raiment. This had provoked thefeasters, who, being full of wine and of the god, would have nothing thatcould remind them of the serious side of life. Such sullen reserve on aday of rejoicing was an insult to the jolly giver of the fruits of theearth, and to wine itself, the care-killer; and the mad troop of artists, disguised as Silenus, satyrs, and fauns, had crowded round the strangerto compel him to join their rout and empty the wine-jar which a burlySilenus was carrying before him on his ass. 

At first the man had paid no heed to the youths' light mockery; but asthey grew bolder, he suddenly stood still, seized the tall faun, who wastrying to force the wine-jar on him, by both arms, and, holding himfirmly, fixed his grave, dark eyes on those of the youth. Alexander hadnot forgotten the half-comical, half-threatening incident, but what heremembered most clearly was the strange scene that followed: for, afterthe Magian had released his enemy, he bade him take the jar back toSilenus, and proceed on his way, like the ass, on all-fours. And thetall faun, a headstrong, irascible Lesbian, had actually obeyed thestately despot, and crept along on his hands and feet by the side of thedonkey. No threats nor mockery of his companions could persuade him torise. The high spirits of the boisterous crew were quite broken, andbefore they could turn on the magician he had vanished. 

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

When, at the time, the painter had told the story to Philip, thephilosopher had laughed at him, though Alexander had reminded him thatPlato even had spoken of the daimons as being the guardian spirits ofmen; that in Alexandria, great and small alike believed in them as a factto be reckoned with; and that he--Philip himself--had told him that theyplayed a prominent part in the newest systems of philosophy. 

But to the skeptic nothing was sure: and if he would deny the existenceof the Divinity, he naturally must disbelieve that of any beings in asphere 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 thestronger, he could refute with convincing arguments; and when he sawothers nibbling whitethorn-leaves, or daubing their thresholds with pitchto preserve themselves and the house from evil spirits, he shrugged hisshoulders contemptuously, though his father often did such things. 

Here was Philip, deep in conversation with the man he had mocked at, andAlexander was flattered by seeing that wise and famous Serapion, in whosepowers he himself believed, was talking almost humbly to his brother, asthough 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 atany 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 manspoke in a very low tone, and if the painter ventured any nearer he wouldbe seen. He could only catch a few incoherent words, till Philipexclaimed in a louder voice: "All that is well-reasoned. But you will beable to write an enduring inscription on the shifting wave sooner thanyou will shake my conviction that for our spirit, such as Nature has madeit, there is nothing infallible or certain. "

The painter was familiar with this postulate, and was curious to hear theMagian's reply; but he could not follow his argument till he ended bysaying, rather more emphatically: "You, even, do not deny the physicalconnection of things; but I know the power that causes it. It is themagical 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 theother declared in all confidence, "And I can prove it, " and wasproceeding to do so, Serapion's companion, a stunted, sharp-featuredlittle Syrian, caught sight of Alexander. The discourse was interrupted, and Alexander, pointing to Melissa, begged his brother to grant them afew minutes' speech with him. Philip, however, scarcely spared a momentfor greeting his brother and sister; and when, in answer to his requestthat they be brief in what they had to say, they replied that a few wordswould not suffice, Philip was for putting them off till the morrow, as hedid not choose to be disturbed just now. 

At this Melissa took courage; she turned to Serapion and modestlyaddressed him:

"You, sir, look like a grave, kind man, and seem to have a regard for mybrother. You, then, will help us, no doubt, to cure him of an illusionwhich troubles us. A dead girl, he says, met him, and he touched herhand. "

"And do you, sweet child, think that impossible?" the Magian askedwith gentle gravity. "Have the thousands who bring not merely fruitand wine and money for their dead, but who even burn a black sheep forthem--you, perhaps, have done the same--have they, I ask, done this solong in vain? I can not believe it. Nay, I know from the ghoststhemselves that this gives them pleasure; so they must have the organs ofsense. "

"That we may rejoice departed souls by food and drink, " said Melissa, eagerly, "and that daimons at times mingle with the living, every one ofcourse, believes; but who ever heard that warm blood stirred in them?And how can it be possible that they should remunerate a service withmoney, which certainly was not coined in their airy realm, but in themint here?"

"Not too fast, fair maid, " replied the Magian, raising a warning hand. "There is no form which these intermediate beings can not assume. Theyhave the control of all and everything which mortals may use, so the soulof Korinna revisiting these scenes may quite well have paid the ferrymanwith an obolus. "

"Then you know of it?" asked Melissa in surprise; but the Magian brokein, saying:

"Few such things remain hidden from him who knows, not even the smallest, if he strives after such knowledge. "

As he spoke he gave the girl such a look as made her eyelids fall, and hewent on with greater warmth: "There would be fewer tears shed by death-beds, my child, if we could but show the world the means by which theinitiated hold converse with the souls of the dead. "

Melissa shook her pretty head sadly, and the Magian kindly stroked herwaving hair; then, looking her straight in the eyes, he said: "The deadlive. What once has been can never cease to be, any more than out ofnothing can anything come. It is so simple; and so, too, are theworkings of magic, which amaze you so much. What you call magic, when Ipractice it, Eros, the great god of love, has wrought a thousand times inyour breast. When your heart leaps at your brother's caress, when thegod's arrow pierces you, and the glance of a lover fills you withgladness, when the sweet harmonies of fine music wrap your soul abovethis earth, or the wail of a child moves you to compassion, you have feltthe magic power stirring in your own soul. You feel it when somemysterious power, without any will of your own, prompts you to some act, be it what it may. And, besides all this, if a leaf flutters off thetable without being touched by any visible hand, you do not doubt that adraught of air, which you can neither hear nor see, has swept through theroom. If at noon the world is suddenly darkened, you know, withoutlooking up at the sky, that it is overcast by a cloud. In the very sameway you can feel the nearness of a soul that was dear to you withoutbeing able to see it. All that is necessary is to strengthen the facultywhich knows its presence, and give it the proper training, and then youwill see and hear them. The Magians have the key which unlocks the doorof the world of spirits to the human senses. Your noble brother, in whomthe claims of the spirit have long since triumphed over those of sense, has found this key without seeking it, since he has been permitted to seeKorinna's soul. And if he follows a competent guide he will see heragain. "

"But why? What good will it do him?" asked Melissa, with a reproachfuland anxious look at the man whose influence, as she divined would bepernicious to her brother, in spite of his knowledge. The Magian gavea compassionate shrug, and in the look he cast at the philosopher, thequestion was legible, "What have such as these to do with the highestthings?"

Philip nodded in impatient assent, and, without paying any further heedto his brother and sister, besought his friend to give him the proofs ofthe theory that the physical causation of things is weaker than thesympathy which connects them. Melissa knew full well that any attemptnow to separate Philip from Serapion would be futile; however, she wouldnot leave the last chance untried, and asked him gravely whether he hadforgotten his mother's tomb. 

He hastily assured her that he fully intended to visit it presently. Fruit and fragrant oil could be had here at any hour of the night. 

"And your two wreaths?" she said, in mild reproach, for she had observedthem both below the portrait of Korinna. 

"I had another use for them, " he said, evasively; and then he added, apologetically: "You have brought flowers enough, I know. If I can findtime, I will go to-morrow to see my father. " He nodded to them both, turned to the Magian, and went on eagerly:

"Then that magical sympathy--"

They did not wait to hear the discussion; Alexander signed to his sisterto follow him. 

He, too, knew that his brother's ear was deaf now to anything he couldsay. What Serapion had said had riveted even his attention, and thequestion whether it might indeed be vouchsafed to living mortals to seethe souls of the departed, and hear their voices, exercised his mind sogreatly that he could not forbear asking his sister's opinion on suchmatters. 

But Melissa's good sense had felt that there was something not quitesound in the Magian's argument--nor did she conceal her conviction thatPhilip, who was always hard to convince, had accepted Serapion's views, not because he yielded to the weight of his reasons, but because he--andAlexander, too, for that matter--hoped by his mediation to see thebeautiful Korinna again. 

This the artist admitted; but when he jested of the danger of a jealousquarrel between him and his brother, for the sake of a dead girl, therewas something hard in his tone, and very unlike him, which Melissa didnot like. 

They breathed more freely as they got out into the open air, and herefforts to change the subject of their conversation were happilyseconded; for at the door they met the family of their neighbor Skopas, the owner of a stone-quarry, whose grave-plot adjoined theirs, andMelissa was happy again as she heard her brother laughing as gayly asever with Skopas's pretty daughter. The mania had not taken such deephold of the light-hearted young painter as of Philip, the poring andgloomy philosopher; and she was glad as she heard her friend Ino callAlexander a faithless butterfly, while her sister Helena declared that hewas a godless scoffer. 

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Man, in short, could be sure of nothingMisfortunes commonly come in couples yoked like oxen