"A little less so, Selene, only you must become accustomed again to my
way of speaking. This time I only mean that we two together are not
strong enough to carry him away."

"But what can I do, then? The doctor said--"

"Never mind the doctor. The complaint your father is suffering from is
one I know well. It will be gone to-morrow, perhaps by sundown, and the
only pain it will leave behind, he will feel under his wig. Only leave
him to sleep."

"But it is so cold here."

"Take my cloak and cover him with that."

"Then you will be frozen."

"I am used to it. How long has Keraunus had dealings with the doctor?"

Selene related the accident that had befallen her father and how
justified were her fears. The sculptor listened to her in silence and
then said in a quite altered tone:

"I am truly sorry to hear it. Let us put some cold water on his
forehead, and until the slaves come back again I will change the wet
cloth every quarter of an hour. Here is a jar and a handkerchief--good,
they might have been left on purpose. Perhaps, too, it will wake him,
and if not the people shall carry him to his own rooms."

"Disgraceful, disgraceful!" sighed the girl.