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168ARIADNE.feared,is here always, and terrible in our Rome,above aU, when the first great rains come;andat last, after letting him go free of it five-andtwentyyears, the fever had struck down Maryx.But he had never lain down under it nor seenanyphysician;ithad only wasted and wornhim,as the slow fire at the roots wastes and wears thetrunk of a doomed tree,that the charcoal-burnershave marked: that was all.Ihad not dared to go to him, but one nightwhenIsat by my stall, with Pales sleeping, andthe lamp swinging, and the people standing orlying about to get abreath of air, thoughno airwas there under the sultry skies,Maryx touchedme on the shoulder. He was very enfeebled, heleaned upon a stick, and his face was pale andhaggard, and the look of age, of old age, haddeepenedon his face, whilst yet he was in theprime of his manhood.Irose and looked inhis face, for indeed beforehimIfelt always so much remorse, thatIfeltas a criminal in his presence;I,who had daredto meddle with Fate and compelit." I am grieved " — Ibegan to him, and thenI