feet would perhaps fail to carry her home, and that she must seek shelter
somewhere for the night, had disturbed her greatly. Now she was quite
calm, and as much at ease as she was at home sitting with her father, her
stitching in her hand, while she dreamed of her mother and her childhood
in the past. The singing had fallen on her agitated soul like the oil
poured by the mariner on the sea to still the foaming breakers. She felt
it so.

She could not help thinking of the time when she could fall asleep on her
mother's bosom in the certainty that tender love was watching over her.
The happiness of childhood, when she loved everything she knew-her
family, the slaves, her father's birds, the flowers in the little garden,
the altar of the goddess to whom she made offering, the very stars in the
sky-seemed to come over her, and there she sat in dreamy lassitude, her
head on her lover's shoulder, till the last stragglers of the procession,
who, were women, many of them carrying little lamps in their hands, had
almost all gone past.

Then she suddenly felt an eager jerk in the shoulder on which her head
was resting.

"Look--look there!" he whispered; and as her eyes followed the direction
of his finger, she too started, and exclaimed, "Korinna!--Did you know
her?"

"She had often come to my father's garden," he replied, "and I saw her
portrait in Alexander's room. These are souls from Hades that we have
seen. We must offer sacrifice, for those to whom they show themselves
they draw after them." At this Melissa, too, shuddered, and exclaimed in
horror: "O Diodoros, not to death! We will ask the priests to-morrow