man who never ceased speaking, because in his dream he had been bidden to
repeat the name of Serapis as many times as there were drops in a cup of
water filled from the Agathodaemon Canal.

"A long stay in this strong perfume will be bad for him," whispered
Ptolemaeus to the freedman. "Galenus sent word that he would visit the
sick early to-day; but he is not here yet. He is an old man, and in
Rome, they say, it is the custom to sleep late."

He was interrupted by a stir in the long hall, which broke in on the
silence, no one knew from whence; and immediately after, officious hands
threw open the great double doors with a loud noise.

"He is coming," whispered their priestly guide; and the instant after an
old man crossed the threshold, followed by a troop of pastophori, as
obsequious as the courtiers at the heels of a prince.

"Gently, brothers," murmured the greatest physician of his age in a low
voice, as, leaning on a staff, he went toward the row of couches. It was
easy to see the traces of his eighty years, but his fine eyes still
gleamed with youthful light.

Melissa blushed to think that she could have mistaken Serenus Samonicus
for this noble old man. He must once have been a tall man; his back was
bent and his large head was bowed as though he were forever seeking
something. His face was pale and colorless, with a well-formed nose and
mouth, but not of classic mold. Blue veins showed through the clear
white skin, and the long, silky, silvery hair still flowed in unthinned
waves round his massive head, bald only on the crown. A snowy beard fell
over his breast. His aged form was wrapped in a long and ample robe of