“Through that door,” he whispered, “you will reach the western steps, and the passage leading out of the precincts to the stadium. You are known to the Romans in the anteroom. It is not the god to whom this building is dedicated who now rules within these walls. Your brother’s rash words are repeated everywhere, and have even come to Caesar’s knowledge; and he has been told that it was the same traitor--who has for the moment escaped Zminis and his men--who nailed a rope on one of our doors, and with it an audacious inscription. To speak a single word in behalf of Alexander or your father would be to fling myself into the fire without putting it out. You do not know how fiercely it is burning. Theocritus is feeding the flame, for he needs it to destroy the prefect. Now, not another word; and, come what may, so long as the Roman visitors dwell under this roof, beware of it!” And the high-priest opened the door with his own hand. “I hurried home,” Philip added, “and if I forgot, in my dismay at this fresh disaster, to warn Glaukias to be careful--But, no, no! It is unpardonable!--Alexander is by this time crossing the lake, perhaps. I am like Caracalla--my brother’s murderer!” But Melissa laid her arm on his shoulder and besought the poor fellow to be comforted; and her loving words of excuse seemed to have some good effect. But why was he always so reserved? Why could not Philip be as frank with her as Alexander was? She had never been very near to him; and now he was concealing from her something which moved him deeply. She turned away sadly, for she could not even comfort him. But then again Philip sighed from the bottom of his heart, and she could contain her self no longer. More tenderly than she had ever addressed him before, she besought her brother to open his heart to her. She would gladly help him to endure what oppressed him; and she could understand, for she herself had learned what the joys and sorrows of love were. She had found the right clew. Philip nodded, and answered gloomily: “Well, then, listen. It may do me good to speak.” And thereupon he began to tell her what she had already heard from Alexander; and, covering her tingling cheeks with her hands, she listened with breathless attention, not missing a word, though the question rose to her mind again and again whether she should tell him the whole truth, which he as yet could not know, or whether it would be better to spare his already burdened soul.