could never hope to feel the grasp of an honest man's hand gnawed at his
heart.

The esteem of Diodoros was dear to him, and, when his young comrade spoke
to him, he felt at first as though he were doing him an unexpected honor;
but then he fell back into the suspicion that this was only for his
sister's sake.

The deep sigh that broke from him induced Melissa to speak a few
words of comfort, and now the unhappy man's bursting heart overflowed.
In eloquent words he described to Diodoros and Melissa all he had felt,
and the terrible consequences of his heedless folly, and as he spoke
acute regret filled his eyes with tears.

He had pronounced judgment on himself, and expected nothing of his friend
but a little pity. But in the darkness Diodoros sought and found his
hand, and grasped it fervently; and if Alexander could but have seen his
old playfellow's face, he would have perceived that his eyes glistened as
he said what he could to encourage him to hope for better days.

Diodoros knew his friend well. He was incapable of falsehood; and his
deed, which under a false light so easily assumed an aspect of villainy,
had, in fact, been no more than an act of thoughtlessness such as he had
himself often lent a hand in. Alexander, however, seemed determined not
to hear the comfort offered him by his sister and his friend. A flash of
lightning revealed him to them, sitting with a bent head and his hands
over his brow; and this gloomy vision of one who so lately had been the
gayest of the gay troubled their revived happiness even more than the
thought of the danger which, as each knew, threatened the others.