for the new, the Muses too have been silenced. The many really beautiful
things to be seen here are not new; and the new, alas! are not beautiful.
But your brother's work," he added, kindly, "may be the exception."

"You should only see his portraits!" cried Melissa.

"Yours, perhaps, among them?" said the old man, with interest. "That is
a reminder I would gladly take back to Rome with me."

Alexander had indeed painted his sister not long before, and how glad she
was to be able to offer the picture to the reverend man to whom she owed
so much! So she promised with a blush to send it him as soon as she
should be at home again.

The unexpected gift was accepted with pleasure, and when he thanked her
eagerly and with simple heartiness, she interrupted him with the
assurance that in Alexandria art was not yet being borne to the grave.
Her brother's career, it was true, threatened to come to an untimely end,
for he stood in imminent danger. On this the old man--who had taken his
seat on a bench which the attendant physicians of the temple had brought
forward-desired to know the state of the case, and Melissa briefly
recounted Alexander's misdemeanor, and how near he had been, yesterday,
to falling into the hands of his pursuers. Then she looked up at the old
man beseechingly; and as he had praised her beauty, so now--she herself
knew not how she had such courage--the praises of his fame, his greatness
and goodness, flowed from her lips. And her bold entreaties ended with a
prayer that he would urge Caesar, who doubtless revered him as a father,
to cease from prosecuting her brother.

The old man's face had grown graver and graver; he had several times