“‘Olbasanus the Chaldean, the investigator of the future and warner of blinded humanity, writes this to Hero, the daughter of Heliodorus. The gods have announced to us that, inflamed with love for Lucius Rutilius, you cherish the design of accepting him for a husband. Olbasanus warns you against this intention, for his eye has read in the stars what horrible misfortunes threaten you and yours, especially Lucius Rutilius himself, if you carry out your resolve. As you might not believe my warning, I send you with this letter a sacred leaf from the book of the god Amun. Carry the page to the hearth, lay it on the stone flags, but so that the flames cannot reach it; bow thrice with clasped hands and await the divine revelation. Amun himself, with invisible finger, will write upon this page from his book and announce what is impending if you despise his sacred will.’ “This was the purport of the parchment Lydia convulsively clenched in her fingers.” During the last few moments Caius Bononius had pressed his friend’s arm more closely and showed other tokens of increasing interest. “Olbasanus?” he now asked, as Lucius Rutilius paused a moment to take breath. “The Chaldean on the Quirinal?” “The same. His name had already reached my ears, but I now learned for the first time his ghost-like influence and his power.” “Go on! go on!” urged Bononius. “Well,” continued the other, “this paper had been enough to throw the two girls into the utmost excitement. Lydia--an exception to her sex--had hitherto made no attempt to pry into her friend’s secret, although she, too, had long since perceived our relations. Now, when the affair was so suddenly and unexpectedly revealed, she forgot the usual questions, amazement, congratulations. In her heartfelt anxiety she pressed into the rooms occupied by the head cook, impetuously sent away all the slaves, and told her friend to do what Olbasanus had directed. Hero, almost bereft of her senses, bowed thrice over the mysterious page and, after a few seconds, perceived with mysterious horror the black characters that were to announce what barred her happiness. She read: ‘To the father, madness, to the daughter, blindness, to Lucius Rutilius, death.’” “Unprecedented!” cried Caius Bononius. “And a strange coincidence!” “What do you mean by that?” asked Rutilius. “Afterwards, my dear fellow! Let me first hear the end of your adventure! True, I scarcely need an explanation of the result of the affair. What reply did you make when the young girls had shown you the page from the book of Amun?”