the same thing; and she thought to herself that it would have made her
happy to see such a spirit in her own child. Her resistance melted away,
and almost involuntarily she exclaimed, "Well, do what you feel to be
right."

Melissa flew into her arms again with a grateful sense of release from a
load, and Berenike did all she could to smooth the thorny way for her.
She discussed every point with Philostratus as thoroughly as though for a
child of her own; and, while the tumult came up from the banquet in the
men's rooms, they settled that Berenike herself should conduct the girl
to the wife of the high-priest of Serapis, the brother of Seleukus, and
there await Melissa's return. Philostratus named the hour and other
details, and then made further inquiries concerning the young artist
whose mocking spirit had brought so much trouble on his family.

On this the lady led him into an adjoining room, where the portrait of
her adored daughter was hanging. It was surrounded by a thick wreath of
violets, the dead girl's favorite flower. The beautiful picture was
lighted up by two three-branched lamps on high stands; and Philostratus,
a connoisseur who had described many paintings with great taste and
vividness, gazed in absorbed silence at the lovely features, which were
represented with rare mastery and the inspired devotion of loving
admiration. At last he turned to the mother, exclaiming:

"Happy artist, to have such a subject! It is a work worthy of the early,
best period, and of a master of the time of Apelies. The daughter who
has been snatched from you, noble lady, was indeed matchless, and no
sorrow is too deep to do her justice. But the divinity who has taken her
knows also how to give; and this portrait has preserved for you a part of
what you loved. This picture, too, may influence Melissa's fate; for