But as soon as Selene began to weep so bitterly he hastily pushed apart two of the laths of the screen, went up and called her name, at first softly not to frighten her, and then more loudly.

When she turned her head he begged her warmly not to be alarmed far he was no ghost, only a very humble and ordinary mortal, in fact-as she might see--nothing more, alas! than the son of Euphorian, the gate-keeper, good for nothing as yet, but treading the path to something better.
"You, Pollux ?" asked the girl with surprise.
"The very man.

But you--can I help you ?" "My poor father," sobbed Selene.

"He does not stir, he is immovable--and his face--oh! merciful gods." "A man who snores is not dead," said the sculptor.

"But the doctor told him--" "He is not even ill! Pontius only gave him stronger wine to drink than he is used to.