rings dreams, but no less surely induces fever. Have you no other room
at hand where the air is purer?"

An eager "Yes," in many voices was the reply; and Diodoros was forthwith
transferred into a small cubicle adjoining.

While he was being moved, Galenus went from bed to bed, questioning the
chief physician and the patients. He seemed to have forgotten Diodoros
and Melissa; but after hastily glancing at some and carefully examining
others, and giving advice where it was needful, he desired to see the
fair Alexandrian's lover once more.

As he entered the room he nodded kindly to the girl. How gladly would she
have followed him! But she said to herself that if he had wished her to
be present he would certainly have called her; so she modestly awaited
his return. She had to wait a long time, and the minutes seemed hours
while she heard the voices of men through the closed door, the moaning
and sighing of the sufferer, the splashing of water, and the clatter of
metal instruments; and her lively imagination made her fancy that
something almost unendurable was being done to her lover.

At last the physician came out. His whole appearance betokened perfect
satisfaction. The younger men, who followed him, whispered among
themselves, shaking their heads as though some miracle had been
performed; and every eye that looked on him was radiant with enthusiastic
veneration. Melissa knew, as soon as his eyes met hers, that all was
well, and as she grasped the old man's hand she concluded from its cool
moisture that he had but just washed it, and had done with his own hand
all that Ptolemaeus had expected of his skill. Her eyes were dim with
grateful emotion, and though Galenus strove to hinder her from pressing
her lips to his hand she succeeded in doing so; he, however, kissed her
brow with fatherly delight in her warmhearted sweetness, and said:

"Now go home happy, my child. That stone had hit your lover's brain-roof
a hard blow; the pressure of the broken beam--I mean a piece of bone--had
robbed him of his consciousness of what a sweet bride the gods have
bestowed on him. But the knife has done its work; the beam is in its
place again; the splinters which were not needed have been taken out; the
roof is mended, and the pressure removed. Your friend has recovered
consciousness, and I will wager that at this moment he is thinking of you
and wishes you were with him. But for the present you had better defer
the meeting. For fo