"I will go with you if you will allow me."

"And I?" said Heron, irritably. "It seems to me that children are
learning to care less and less what their fathers' views and requirements
may be. I have to go to Philip. Who knows what may happen in my
absence? Besides--no offense to you, Andreas--what concern has my
daughter among the Christians?"

"To visit her lover," replied Andreas, sharply. And he added, more
quietly: "It will be a pleasure to me to escort her; and your Argutis is
a faithful fellow, and in case of need would be of more use here than an
inexperienced girl. I see no reasonable ground for detaining her, Heron.
I should like afterwards to take her home with me, across the lake; it
would be a comfort to Polybius and soothe his pain to have his favorite
with him, his future daughter.--Get ready, my child."

The artist had listened with growing anger, and a swift surge of rage
made him long to give the freedman a sharp lesson. But when his glaring
eye met the Christian's steady, grave gaze, he controlled himself, and
only said, with a shrug which sufficiently expressed his feeling that he
was surrendering his veto against his better judgment, addressing himself
to Melissa and ignoring Andreas:

"You are betrothed, and of age. Go, for aught I care, in obedience to
him whose wishes evidently outweigh mine. Polybius's son is your master
henceforth."

He folded his mantle, and when the girl hastened to help him he allowed
her to do it; but he went on, to the freedman: "And for aught I care, you
may take her across the lake, too. It is natural that Polybius should