She, too, sat down; she could scarcely stand.

At first he listened calmly to her narrative; and when she told him
of Alexander's jest at Caesar's expense his face brightened. His
Alexandrian blood and his relish for a biting speech got the upper hand;
he gave a sounding slap on his mighty leg, and exclaimed: "A cursed good
thought! But the boy forgot that when Zeus only lamed his son it was
because he is immortal; while Caesar's brother was as feeble a mortal as
Caracalla himself is said to be at this day."

He laughed noisily; but it was for the last time that morning; for hardly
had he heard the name of Zminis, and learned that it was he who had over
heard Alexander, than he threw down the wax and started to his feet in
horror, crying:

"That dog, who dared to cast his eyes on your mother, and persecuted her
long after she had shown him the door! That sly mischief-maker! Many
a time has he set snares in our path. If he succeeds in tightening the
noose into which the boy has so heedlessly thrust his head--But first
tell me, has he caught him already, or is Alexander still at liberty?"

But no one, not even Argutis, who was still out on the search, could tell
him this; and he was now so greatly disturbed that, during the rest of
Melissa's narrative, he perpetually paced the room, interrupting her now
and then with questions or with outbursts of indignation. And then it
occurred to him that he ought himself to seek his son, and he occupied
himself with getting ready to go out.

Even when she spoke of the Magian, and his conviction that those who know
are able to hold intercourse with the souls of the dead, he shrugged his