dares not ask for bread. The cities of the world have suffered many such a chastening as that which Thebes has endured. May they profit by the warning and follow the example of the people of that city, who, when their sick were whole again, tarried not, but purged and cleansed the town, wherein will never again be found foothold for the dreaded visitor!
It was a time of rest and thanksgiving in all the city, with one exception: the house of Madame Anna wore the darkened look which betokens the presence of illness. The blinds were drawn, the street outside was strewn with straw, and the heavy knocker muffled. Day and night Hero sat beside the door, that no visitor should disturb the sufferer who lay in the long dining-room, the largest and airiest apartment in the house. The callers were not a few; hardly a quarter of an hour passed without some anxious inquiry, to which Hero would answer with a mournful shake of the head,—
"No better."
For the time of the fever was past, and the illness which laid Philip Rondelet low bore no trace of the baneful disease he had fought so bravely. Men and women had time to turn from their own cares and ask news of him who had won the love and gratitude of the community.
"No better."
