grave looks had always brightened at anything that had brought gladness
to her or to her mother. Besides, her success with the Roman would be
to the advantage of Diodoros, and the freedman was devoted to him.
Every now and then she perceived that his eye rested on her with a
compassionate expression, and when she inquired whether he were anxious
about the sufferer, he gave her some evasive answer, quite unlike his
usual decisive speech. This added to her alarm. At last his
dissatisfied and unsatisfactory replies vexed the usually patient girl,
and she told him so; for she could not suspect how painfully her triumph
in her hasty deed jarred on her truth-loving friend. He knew that it was
not to the great Galenus, but to the wealthy Serenus Samonicus, that she
had spoken; for the physician's noble and thoughtful features were
familiar to him from medals, statues, and busts. He had seen Samonicus,
too, at Antioch, and held his medical lore, as expressed in verse, very
cheap. How worthless would this man's help be! In spite of his promise,
Diodoros would after all have to be conveyed to the Serapeum; and yet
Andreas could not bear to crush his darling's hopes.

He had hitherto known her as a patient, dutiful child; to-day he had seen
with what unhesitating determination she could carry out a purpose; and
he feared that, if he told her the truth, she would at once make her way
into Caesar's quarters, in defiance of every obstacle, to crave the
assistance of the true Galen. He must leave her in error, and yet he
could not bear to do so, for there was no art in which he was so inexpert
as that of deceit. How hard it was to find the right answer, when she
asked him whether he did not hope everything from the great physician's
intervention, or when she inquired what were the works to which Galen
owed his chief fame!

As they came near to the landing-stage whence the ferry started, she