naturally good features, and tinged them of a coppery red, which
contrasted strangely with his snowy hair and beard. But a kind heart,
benevolence, and a love of good living, beamed in every look.

His heavy limbs moved but slowly, and if ever full lips deserved to be
called sensual, they were those of this man, who was a priest of two
divinities.

How well his household understood the art of catering for his love of
high living, was evident in the meal which was served soon after
Melissa's arrival, and to eat which the old man made her recline
on the couch by his side.

Andreas also shared the supper; and not the attendant slaves only, but
Dame Praxilla, the sister of their host, whose house she managed, paid
him particular honor. She was a widow and childless, and, even during
the lifetime of Diodoros's mother, she had given her heart, no longer
young, to the freedman, without finding her love returned or even
observed. For his sake she would have become a Christian, though she
regarded herself as so indispensable to her brother that she had rarely
left him to hold intercourse with other Christians. Nor did Andreas
encourage her; he doubted her vocation. Whatever happened in the house,
the excitable woman made it her own concern; and, although she had known
Melissa from childhood, and was as fond of her as she could be of the
child of "strangers," the news that Diodoros was to marry the gem-
cutter's daughter was displeasing to her. A second woman in the house
might interfere with her supremacy; and, as an excuse for her annoyance,
she had represented to her brother that Diodoros might look higher for
a wife. Agatha, the beautiful daughter of their rich Christian neighbor
Zeno, was the right bride for the boy.