"I arose immediately, and dismissing Theagenes, hastened to the temple; where I found Charicles reclining sorrowfully upon a seat, and sighing deeply. I approached him, and inquired why he was so melancholy and cast down.--'How can I be otherwise,' he replied, 'when I have been terrified by dreams? and hear too, this morning, that my daughter still continues indisposed, and has passed a sleepless night. I am the more concerned at this, not only on her own account, but also because to-morrow is the day appointed for the display of those who[23] run in armour; at which ceremony the priestess of Diana is to preside, and hold up a torch. Either, therefore, the festival will lose much of its accustomed splendour by her absence; or if she comes against her will, she may increase her illness. Wherefore let me now beseech you, by our friendship, and by the god at whose altar we are, to come to her assistance, and think of some remedy. I know you can easily, if you please, cure this fascination, if such it be--the priests of Egypt can do far greater things than these.' "I confessed that I had been negligent (the better to carry on the deception); and requested a day's time to prepare some medicines, which I thought necessary for her cure. 'Let us now, however,' I continued, 'make her a visit; consider more accurately the nature of her complaint; and, if possible, administer to her some consolation. At the same time, Charicles, I beg you will say a few words to her concerning me; inspire her with regard for my person, and confidence in my skill, that so the cure may proceed the better.' He promised that he would do so; and we went together. But why say much of the situation in which we found the luckless Chariclea? She was entirely prostrated by her passion; the bloom was flown from her cheeks; and tears flowing like water had extinguished the lustre of her eyes. She endeavoured, however to compose herself, when she saw us; and to resume her usual voice and countenance. Charicles embraced, kissed and soothed her. 'My dear daughter,' he cried, 'why will you hide your sufferings from your father? and while you labour under a fascination, you are silent as if you were the injurer, instead of being the injured party: an evil eye has certainly looked upon you. But be of good cheer; here is the wise Calasiris, who has promised to attempt your cure; and he, if any one is able, can effect it; for he has been bred up from his youth in the study of things divine, and is himself a priest; and what is more than all, he is my dearest friend. Resign yourself up, therefore, entirely to his management; suffer him to treat you as he pleases, either by incantations or any other method--you have, I know, no aversion to the company and conversation of the wise.'