of some heedless
youth, which would bring grief upon the peaceable citizens. But before
he could ask what was meant, he was admitted to the high-priest's room.

This was a marked favor on such a day as this, and the benevolence with
which he was received by the head of the priesthood of the whole city
filled him with good hopes of a successful issue. But hardly had Philip
begun to speak of his brother's misdemeanor, than Timotheus laid his
hand on his bearded lips, as a hint to be cautious, and whispered in his
ear, "Speak quickly and low, if you love your life!"

When Philip had hastily explained that Zminis had imprisoned his father,
the old man started to his feet with a promptitude to which his majestic
person was unaccustomed, and pointed to a curtained doorway on one side
of the room.

"Through that door," he whispered, "you will reach the western steps,
and the passage leading out of the precincts to the stadium. You are
known to the Romans in the anteroom. It is not the god to whom this
building is dedicated who now rules within these walls. Your brother's
rash words are repeated everywhere, and have even come to Caesar's
knowledge; and he has been told that it was the same traitor--who has
for the moment escaped Zminis and his men--who nailed a rope on one of
our doors, and with it an audacious inscription. To speak a single word
in behalf of Alexander or your father would be to fling myself into the
fire without putting it out. You do not know how fiercely it is burning.
Theocritus is feeding the flame, for he needs it to destroy the prefect.
Now, not another word; and, come what may, so long as the Roman visitors
dwell under this roof, beware of it!"

And the high-priest opened the door with his own hand.

"I hurried home," Philip added, "and if I forgot, in my dismay at this
fresh disaster, to warn Glaukias to be careful--But, no, no! It is
unpardonable!--Alexander is by this time crossing the lake, perhaps. I
am like Caracalla--my brother's murderer!"

But Melissa laid her arm on his shoulder and besought the poor fellow
to be comforted; and her loving words of excuse seemed to have some good
effect. But why was he always so reserved? Why could not Philip be as
frank with her as Alexander was? She had never been very near to him;
and now he was concealing from her something which moved him deeply.

She turned away sadly, for she could not even comfort him. But then
again Philip sighed from the bottom