it, there is nothing infallible or certain."

The painter was familiar with this postulate, and was curious to hear the
Magian's reply; but he could not follow his argument till he ended by
saying, rather more emphatically: "You, even, do not deny the physical
connection of things; but I know the power that causes it. It is the
magical sympathy which displays itself more powerfully in the universe,
and among human beings, than any other force."

"That is just what remains to be proved," was the reply. But as the
other declared in all confidence, "And I can prove it," and was
proceeding to do so, Serapion's companion, a stunted, sharp-featured
little Syrian, caught sight of Alexander. The discourse was interrupted,
and Alexander, pointing to Melissa, begged his brother to grant them a
few minutes' speech with him. Philip, however, scarcely spared a moment
for greeting his brother and sister; and when, in answer to his request
that they be brief in what they had to say, they replied that a few words
would not suffice, Philip was for putting them off till the morrow, as he
did not choose to be disturbed just now.

At this Melissa took courage; she turned to Serapion and modestly
addressed him:

"You, sir, look like a grave, kind man, and seem to have a regard for my
brother. You, then, will help us, no doubt, to cure him of an illusion
which troubles us. A dead girl, he says, met him, and he touched her
hand."

"And do you, sweet child, think that impossible?" the Magian asked
with gentle gravity. "Have the thousands who bring not merely fruit