Several sick persons, eager for some communication from the gods, and
some who, without being sick, had slept in the Serapeum, had by this time
left their beds, and were taking counsel in the great hall with
interpreters and physicians. The bustle was like that of a market-place,
and there was one old man with unkempt hair and fiery eyes who repeated
again and again in a loud voice, "It was the god himself who appeared to
me, and his three-headed dog licked my cheeks." And presently a hideous
old woman plucked at Melissa's robe, whispering: "A healing draught for
your lover; tears from the eyes of the infant Horus. I have them from
Isis herself. The effect is rapid and certain. Come to Hezron, the
dealer in balsams in the street of the Nekropolis. Your lover's
recovery--for five drachmae."

But Melissa, who was no stranger here since her mother's last sickness,
went on without pausing, following the litter down the long hall full of
beds, a room with a stone roof resting on two rows of tall columns.
Familiar to her too was the aromatic scent of kyphi,--[incense]--which
filled the hall, although fresh air was constantly pouring in from
outside through the high windows. Red and green curtains hung in front
of them, and the subdued light which came through fell in tinted twilight
on the colored pictures in relief of the history of the gods, which
covered the walls. Speech was forbidden here, and their steps fell
noiseless on the thick, heavy mats.

Most of the beds were already empty; only those between the long wall and
the nearest row of columns were still for the most part occupied by the
sick who sought the help of the god. On one of these Diodoros was laid,
Melissa helping in silence, and with such skill as delighted even the
physicians. Still, this did not wake him, though on the next bed lay a