a compassionate shrug, and in the look he cast at the philosopher, the
question was legible, "What have such as these to do with the highest
things?"

Philip nodded in impatient assent, and, without paying any further heed
to his brother and sister, besought his friend to give him the proofs of
the theory that the physical causation of things is weaker than the
sympathy which connects them. Melissa knew full well that any attempt
now to separate Philip from Serapion would be futile; however, she would
not leave the last chance untried, and asked him gravely whether he had
forgotten his mother's tomb.

He hastily assured her that he fully intended to visit it presently.
Fruit and fragrant oil could be had here at any hour of the night.

"And your two wreaths?" she said, in mild reproach, for she had observed
them both below the portrait of Korinna.

"I had another use for them," he said, evasively; and then he added,
apologetically: "You have brought flowers enough, I know. If I can find
time, I will go to-morrow to see my father." He nodded to them both,
turned to the Magian, and went on eagerly:

"Then that magical sympathy--"

They did not wait to hear the discussion; Alexander signed to his sister
to follow him.

He, too, knew that his brother's ear was deaf now to anything he could
say. What Serapion had said had riveted even his attention, and the