been allowed to see it is quite
crazy about it. Everything else that was on show in the embalmers' hall
was mere trash by comparison. Often enough have I grumbled at the boy,
who would rather be anywhere than here; but, this time, I had some
ground for being proud to be his father! And now the captain of the
watch sends his secretary, or something of the kind, no doubt, in
order to have his portrait, or his wife's or daughter's--if he has
one--painted by the artist who did Korinna's; and his own father's
slave--it drives me mad to think of it--makes a face at the messenger
and sends him all astray. I will give Argutis a lesson! But by this
time, perhaps--Just go and fetch him in." With these words Heron again
dropped his spoon, wiped his beard, and then, seeing that Dido was still
standing before him as though spellbound, twitching her slave's gray
gown, he repeated his order in such angry tones--though before he had
spoken to her as gently as if she were one of his own children--that
the old woman started violently and made for the door, crouching low and
whimpering bitterly.

The soft-hearted tyrant was really sorry for the faithful old servant he
had bought a generation since for the home to which he had brought
his fair young wife, and he began to speak kindly to her, as he had
previously done to the birds.

This comforted the old woman so much that again she could not help
crying; but, notwithstanding the sincerity of her tears, being
accustomed of old to take advantage of her master's moods, she felt that
now was the time to tell her melancholy story. First of all she would at
any rate see whether Melissa had not meanwhile returned; so she humbly
kissed the hem of his robe and hurried away.

"Send Argutis to me!" Heron roared after her, and he returned to his
breakfast with renewed energy.

He thought, as he ate, of his son's beautiful work, and the foolish
self-importance of Argutis, so faithful, and usually, it must be owned,
so shrewd. Then his eyes fell on Melissa's vacant place opposite to him,
and he suddenly pushed away his bowl and rose to seek his daughter.

At this moment the starling called, in a clear, inviting tone,
"Olympias!" and this cheered him, reminding him of the happy hour he
had passed at his wife's grave and the good augury he had had there.
The belief in a better time at hand, of which he had spoken to the bird,
again took possession of his sanguine soul; and, fully persuaded that
Mel