love of him I might have been ready even to give my hand to the blood-
stained Caesar, but that Fate--and perhaps the manes of her we loved, and
who is dead--have ordered it otherwise."

She then went into the room where her mother had closed her eyes. After
a short prayer by that bed, which still stood there, she hastened to
Philip's room. He lay sleeping heavily; she bent over him and kissed the
too high brow, which looked as though even in sleep the brain within were
still busy over some difficult and painful question.

Her way led her once more through her father's work-room, and she had
already crossed it when she hastily turned back to look once more--for
the last time-at the little table where she had sat for so many years,
busy with her needle, in modest contentment by the artist's side,
dreaming with waking eyes, and considering what she, with her small
resources and great love, could do that would be of use to those she
loved, or relieve them if they were in trouble. Then, as though she knew
that she was bidding a last farewell to all the pleasant companionship of
her youth, she looked at the birds, long since gone to roost in their
cages. In spite of his recent curule honors Heron had not forgotten
them, and, before quitting the house to display himself to the populace
in the 'toga pretexa', he had as usual carefully covered them up. And
now, as Melissa lifted the cloth from the starling's cage, and the bird
muttered more gently than usual, and perhaps in its sleep, the cry,
"Olympias!" a shudder ran through her; and, as she stepped out into the
road by Alexander's side, she said, dejectedly:

"Everything is coming to an end! Well, and so it may; for what has come
over us all in these few days? Before Caesar came, what were you--what
was Philip? In my own heart what peace reigned!