[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D. W. ]

A THORNY PATH

By Georg Ebers

Volume 5. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Nothing delighted old Dido more than to dress the daughter of her belovedmistress in all her best, for she had helped to bring her up; but to-dayit was a cruel task; tears dimmed her old eyes. It was not till she hadput the finishing touches to braiding the girl's abundant brown hair, pinned her peplos on the shoulders with brooches, and set the girdlestraight, that her face cleared, as she looked at the result. Never hadshe seen her darling look so fair. Nothing, indeed, remained of thechild-like timidity and patient submissiveness which had touched Didoonly two days since, as she plaited Melissa's hair. The maiden's browwas grave and thoughtful, the lips firmly set; but she seemed to Dido tohave grown, and to have gained something of her mother's mature dignity. She looked, the old woman told her, like the image of Pallas Athene;adding, to make her smile, that if she wanted an owl, she, Dido, couldfill the part. Jesting had never been the old woman's strong point, andto-day it was less easy than ever; for, if the worst befell, and she weresent in her old age to a strange house--and Argutis, no doubt, toanother--she would have to turn the handmill for the rest of her days. 

But it was a hard task which the motherless--and now fatherless--girlhad set herself, and she must try to cheer her darling. While she wasdressing her, she never ceased praying to all the gods and goddesses shecould think of to come to the maiden's aid and move the souls of thosewho could help her. And though she was, as a rule, ready to expect theworst, this time she hoped for the best; for Seleukus's wife must have aheart of stone if she could close it to such innocence, such beauty, andthe pathetic glance of those large, imploring eyes. 

When at length Melissa quitted the house, deeply veiled, with Argutis toescort her, she took his arm; and he, wearing his master's mantle, andexempted long since from keeping his hair cropped, was so proud of thisthat he walked with all the dignity of a freeman, and no one could haveguessed that he was a slave. Melissa's face was completely hidden, andshe, like her companion, was safe from recognition. Argutis, nevertheless, led her through the quietest and darkest lanes to theKanopic way. Both were silent, and looked straight before them. Melissa, as she walked on, could not think with her usual calm. Like asuffering man who goes to the physician's house to die or be cured by theknife, she felt that she was on her way to something terrible in itself, to remedy, if possible, something still more dreadful. Her father--Alexander, so reckless and so good-hearted--Philip, whom she pitied--andher sick lover, came in turn before her fancy. But she could not controlher mind to dwell on either for long. Nor could she, as usual, when shehad any serious purpose in hand, put up a prayer to her mother's manes orthe immortals; and all the while an inner voice made itself heard, confidently promising her that Caesar, for whom she had sacrificed, and who might be kinder and more merciful than others fancied, would atonce grant all she should ask. But she would not listen; and when shenevertheless ventured to consider how she could make her way intoCaesar's presence, a cold shiver ran down her back, and again Philip'slast words sounded in her ears, "Death rather than dishonor!"

Other thoughts and feelings filled the slave's soul. He, who had alwayswatched over his master's children with far more anxious care than Heronhimself, had not said a word to dissuade Melissa from her perilousexpedition. Her plan had, indeed, seemed to him the only one whichpromised any success. He was a man of sixty years, and a shrewd fellow, who might easily have found a better master than Heron had been; but hegave not a thought to his own prospects--only to Melissa's, whom he lovedas a child of his own. She had placed herself under his protection, andhe felt responsible for her fate. Thus he regarded it as great goodfortune that he could be of use in procuring her admission to the houseof Seleukus, for the door-keeper was a fellow-countryman of his, whomFate had brought hither from the banks of the Moselle. At everyfestival, which secured a few hours' liberty to all the slaves, they hadfor years been boon companions, and Argutis knew that his friend would dofor him and his young mistress all that lay in his power. It would, ofcourse, be difficult to get an audience of the mistress of a house whereCaesar was a guest, but the door-keeper was clever and ingenious, andwould do anything short of the impossible. 

So he walked with his head high and his heart full of pride, and itconfirmed his courage when one of Zminis's men, whom they passed in thebrightly illuminated Kanopic street, and who had helped to secure Philip, looked at him without recognizing him. 

There was a great stir in this, the handsomest road through the city. The people were waiting for Caesar; but stricter order was observed thanon the occasion of his arrival. The guard prohibited all traffic on thesouthern side of the way, and only allowed the citizens to walk up anddown the footpath, shaded by trees, between the two roadways paved withgranite flags, and the arcades in front of the houses on either side. The free inhabitants, unaccustomed to such restrictions, revengedthemselves by cutting witticisms at Caesar's expense, "for clearing thestreets of Alexandria by his men-at-arms as he did those of Rome by theexecutioner. He seemed to have forgotten, as he kept the two roads open, that he only needed one, now that he had murdered his brother andpartner. "

Melissa and her companion were ordered to join the crowd on the footway;but Argutis managed to convince a man on guard that they were two of themimes who were to perform before Caesar--the door-keeper at the house ofSeleukus would confirm the fact--and the official himself made way forthem into the vestibule of this splendid dwelling. 

But Melissa was as little in the humor to admire all the lavishmagnificence which surrounded her as Alexander had been a few days since. Still veiled, she modestly took a place among the choir who stood on eachside of the hall ready to welcome Caesar with singing and music. Argutisstopped to speak with his friend. She dimly felt that the whispering andgiggling all about her was at her expense; and when an elderly, man, thechoir-master, asked her what she wanted, and desired her to remove herveil, she obeyed at once, saying: "Pray let me stand here, the LadyBerenike will send for me. "

"Very well, " replied the musician; and he silenced the singers, who werehazarding various impertinent guesses as to the arrival of so pretty agirl just when Caesar was expected. 

As Melissa dropped her veil the splendor of the scene, lighted up bynumberless tapers and lamps, forced itself on her attention. She nowperceived that the porphyry columns of the great hall were wreathed withflowers, and that garlands swung in graceful curves from the open roof;while at the farther end, statues had been placed of Septimus Severus andJulia Domna, Caracalla's parents. On each side of these works of artstood bowers of plants, in which gay-plumaged birds were flutteringabout, excited by the lights. But all these glories swam before hereyes, and the first question which the artist's daughter was wont toask herself, "is it really beautiful or no?" never occurred to her mind. She did not even notice the smell of incense, until some fresh powder wasthrown on, and it became oppressive. 

She was fully conscious only of two facts, when at last Argutis returned:that she was the object of much curious examination and that every onewas wondering what detained Caesar so long. 

At last, after she had waited many long minutes, the door-keeperapproached her with a young woman in a rich but simple dress, in whomshe recognized Johanna, the Christian waiting-maid of whom Alexanderhad spoken. She did not speak, but beckoned her to come. 

Breathing anxiously, and bending her head low, Melissa, following herguide, reached a handsome impluvium, where a fountain played in the midstof a bed of roses. Here the moon and starlight mingled with that oflamps without number, and the ruddy glare of a blaze; for all round thebasin, from which the playing waters danced skyward, stood marble genii, carrying in their hands or on their heads silver dishes, in which theleaping flames consumed cedar chips and aromatic resins. 

At the back of this court, where it was as light as day, at the top ofthree steps, stood the statues of Alexander the Great and Caracalla. They were of equal size; and the artist, who had wrought the second ingreat haste out of the slightest materials, had been enjoined to makeCaesar as like as possible in every respect to the hero he most revered. Thus they looked like brothers. The figures were lighted up by the fireswhich burned on two altars of ivory and gold. Beautiful boys, dressed asarmed Erotes, fed the flames. 

The whole effect was magical and bewildering; but, as she followed herguide, Melissa only felt that she was in the midst of a new world, suchas she might perhaps have seen in a dream; till, as they passed thefountain, the cool drops sprinkled her face. 

Then she suddenly remembered what had brought her hither. In a minuteshe must appear as a supplicant in the presence of Korinna's mother--perhaps even in that of Caesar himself--and the fate of all dear to herdepended on her demeanor. The sense of fulfilling a serious duty wasuppermost in her mind. She drew herself up, and replaced a stray lock ofhair; and her heart beat almost to bursting as she saw a number of, menstanding on the platform at the top of the steps, round a lady who hadjust risen from her ivory seat. Giving her hand to a Roman senator, distinguished by the purple edge to his toga, she descended the steps, and advanced to meet Melissa. 

This dignified matron, who was awaiting the ruler of the world and yetcould condescend to come forward to meet a humble artist's daughter, wastaller by half a head than her illustrious companion; and the few minutesduring which Berenike was coming toward her were enough to fill Melissawith thankfulness, confidence, and admiration. And even in that shorttime, as she gazed at the magnificent dress of blue brocade shot withgold and sparkling with precious stones which draped the lady's majesticfigure, she thought how keen a pang it must cost the mother, so latelybereft of her only child, to maintain a kindly, nay, a genial aspect, inthe midst of this display, toward Caesar and a troop of noisy guests. 

The sincerest pity for this woman, rich and preeminent as she was, filledthe soul of the girl, who herself was so much to be pitied. But when thelady had come up to her, and asked, in her deep voice, what was thedanger that threatened her brother, Melissa, with unembarrassed grace, and although it was the first time she had ever addressed a lady of suchhigh degree, answered simply, with a full sense of the business in hand:

"My name is Melissa; I am the sister of Alexander the painter. I know itis overbold to venture into your presence just now, when you have so muchelse to think of; but I saw no other way of saving my brother's life, which is in peril. "

At this Berenike seemed surprised. She turned to her companion, who washer sister's husband, and the first Egyptian who had been admitted to theRoman Senate, and said, in a tone of gentle reproach:

"Did not I say so, Coeranus? Nothing but the most urgent need would havebrought Alexander's sister to speak with me at such an hour. "

And the senator, whose black eyes had rested with pleasure on Melissa'srare beauty, promptly replied, "And if she had come for the veriesttrifle she would be no less welcome to me. "

"Let me hear no more of such speeches, " Berenike exclaimed with someannoyance. --"Now, my child, be quick. What about your brother?"

Melissa briefly and truthfully reported Alexander's heedless crime andthe results to her father and Philip. She ended by beseeching the noblelady with fervent pathos to intercede for her father and brothers. 

Meanwhile the senator's keen face had darkened, and the lady Berenike'slarge eyes, too, were downcast. She evidently found it hard to come toa decision; and for the moment she was relieved of the necessity, forrunners came hurrying up, and the senator hastily desired Melissa tostand aside. 

He whispered to his sister-in-law:

"It will never do to spoil Caesar's good-humor under your roof for thesake of such people, " and Berenike had only time to reply, "I am notafraid of him, " when the messenger explained to her that Caesar himselfwas prevented from coming, but that his representatives, charged with hisapologies, were close at hand. 

On this Coeranus exclaimed, with a sour smile: "Admit that I am a trueprophet! You have to put up with the same treatment that we senatorshave often suffered under. "

But the matron scarcely heard him. She cast her eyes up to heaven withsincere thanksgiving as she murmured with a sigh of relief, "For thismercy the gods be praised!"

She unclasped her hands from her heaving bosom, and said to the stewardwho had followed the messengers:

"Caesar will not be present. Inform your lord, but so that no one elsemay hear. He must come here and receive the imperial representativeswith me. Then have my couch quietly removed and the banquet served atonce. O Coeranus, you can not imagine the misery I am thus spared!"

"Berenike!" said the senator, in a warning voice, and he laid hisfinger on his lips. Then turning to the young supplicant, he said to herin a tone of regret: "So your walk is for nothing, fair maid. If you areas sensible as you are pretty, you will understand that it is too much toask any one to stand between the lion and the prey which has roused hisire. "

The lady, however, did not heed the caution which her brother-in-lawintended to convey. As Melissa's imploring eyes met her own, she said, with clear decision:

"Wait here. We shall see who it is that Caesar sends. I know betterthan my lord here what it is to see those dear to us in peril. How oldare you, child?"

"Eighteen, " replied Melissa. 

"Eighteen?" repeated Berenike, as if the word were a pain to her, for herdaughter had been just of that age. Then she said, louder and withencouraging kindness:

"All that lies in my power shall be done for you and yours. --And you, Coeranus, must help me. "

"If I can, " he replied, "with all the zeal of my reverence for you and myadmiration for beauty. But here come the envoys. The elder, I see, isour learned Philostratus, whose works are known to you; the younger isTheocritus, the favorite of fortune of whom I was telling you. If thecharm of that face might but conquer the omnipotent youth--"

"Coeranus!" she exclaimed, with stern reproof; but she failed to hearthe senator's excuses, for her husband, Seleukus, followed her down thesteps, and with a hasty sign to her, advanced to meet his guests. 

Theocritus was spokesman, and notwithstanding the mourning toga whichwrapped him in fine folds, his gestures did not belie his origin as anactor and dancer. When Seleukus presented him to his wife, Theocritusassured her that when, but an hour since, his sovereign lord, who wasalready dressed and wreathed for the banquet, had learned that the godshad bereft of their only child the couple whose hospitality had promisedhim such a delightful evening, he had been equally shocked and grieved. Caesar was deeply distressed at the unfortunate circumstance that heshould have happened in his ignorance to intrude on the seclusion whichwas the prerogative of grief. He begged to assure her and her husband ofthe high favor of the ruler of the world. As for himself, Theocritus, hewould not fail to describe the splendor with which they had decoratedtheir princely residence in Caesar's honor. His imperial master would betouched, indeed, to hear that even the bereaved mother, who, like Niobe, mourned for her offspring, had broken the stony spell which held her toSipylos, and had decked herself to receive the greatest of all earthlyguests as radiant as Juno at the golden table of the gods. 

The lady succeeded in controlling herself and listening to the end ofthese pompous phrases without interrupting the speaker. Every word whichflowed so glibly from his tongue fell on her ear as bitter mockery; andhe himself was so repugnant to her, that she felt it a release when, after exchanging a few words with the master of the house, he beggedleave to retire, as important business called him away. And this, indeed, was the truth. For no consideration would he have left this dutyto another, for it was to communicate to Titianus, who had offended him, the intelligence that Caesar had deprived him of the office of prefect, and intended to examine into certain complaints of his administration. 

The second envoy, however, remained, though he refused Seleukus'sinvitation to fill his place at the banquet. He exchanged a few wordswith the lady Berenike, and presently found himself taken aside by thesenator, and, after a short explanation, led up to Melissa, whom Coeranusdesired to appeal for help to Philostratus, the famous philosopher, whoenjoyed Caesar's closest confidence. 

Coeranus then obeyed a sign from Berenike, who wished to know whether hewould be answerable for introducing this rarely pretty girl, who hadplaced herself under their protection--and whom she, for her part, meantto protect--to a courtier of whom she knew nothing but that he was awriter of taste. 

The question seemed to amuse Coeranus, but, seeing that his sister-in-lawwas very much in earnest, he dropped his flippant tone and admitted thatPhilostratus, as a young man, had been one of the last with whom he wouldtrust a girl. His far-famed letters sufficiently proved that the wittyphilosopher had been a devoted and successful courtier of women. Butthat was all a thing of the past. He still, no doubt, did homage tofemale beauty, but he led a regular life, and had become one of the mostardent and earnest upholders of religion and virtue. He was one of thelearned circle which gathered round Julia Domna, and it was by her desirethat he had accompanied Caracalla, to keep his mad passions in check whenit might be possible. 

The conversation between Melissa and the philosopher had meanwhile takenan unexpected turn. At his very first address the reply had died on herlips, for in Caesar's representative she had recognized the Roman whomshe had seen in the Temple of Asklepios, and who had perhaps overheardher there. Philostratus, too, seemed to remember the meeting; for hisshrewd face--a pleasing mixture of grave and gay--lighted up at once witha subtle smile as he said:

"If I am not mistaken, I owe the same pleasure this evening to divineCaesar as to great Asklepios this morning?"

At this, Melissa cast a meaning glance at Coeranus and the lady, and, although surprise and alarm sealed her lips, her uplifted hands and wholegesture sufficiently expressed her entreaty that he would not betray her. He understood and obeyed. It pleased him to share a secret with thisfair child. He had, in fact, overheard her, and understood withamazement that she was praying fervently for Caesar. 

This stirred his curiosity to the highest pitch. So he said, in anundertone:

"All that I saw and heard in the temple is our secret, sweet maid. Butwhat on earth can have prompted you to pray so urgently for Caesar? Hashe done you or yours any great benefit?"

Melissa shook her head, and Philostratus went on with increasedcuriosity:

"Then are you one of those whose heart Eros can fire at the sight of animage, or the mere aspect of a man?"

To this she answered hastily:

"What an idea! No, no. Certainly not. "

"No?" said her new friend, with greater surprise. "Then perhaps yourhopeful young soul expects that, being still but a youth, he may, by thehelp of the gods, become, like Titus, a benefactor to the whole world?"

Melissa looked timidly at the matron, who was still talking with herbrother-in-law, and hastily replied:

"They all call him a murderer! But I know for certain that he suffersfearful torments of mind and body; and one who knows many things told methat there was not one among all the millions whom Caesar governs whoever prays for him; and I was so sorry--I can not tell you--"

"And so, " interrupted the philosopher, "you thought it praiseworthy andpleasing to the gods that you should be the first and only one to offersacrifice for him, in secret, and of your own free will? That was how itcame about? Well, child, you need not be ashamed of it. "

But then suddenly his face clouded, and he asked, in a grave and alteredvoice:

"Are you a Christian?"

"No, " she replied, firmly. "We are Greeks. How could I haveoffered a sacrifice of blood to Asklepios if I had believed in thecrucified god?"

"Then, " said Philostratus, and his eyes flashed brightly, "I may promiseyou, in the name of the gods, that your prayer and offering were pleasingin their eyes. I myself, noble girl, owe you a rare pleasure. But, tellme--how did you feel as you left the sanctuary?"

"Light-hearted, my lord, and content, " she answered, with a frank, gladlook in her fine eyes. "I could have sung as I went down the road, though there were people about. "

"I should have liked to hear you, " he said, kindly, and he still held herhand, which he had grasped with the amiable geniality that characterizedhim, when they were joined by the senator and his sister-in-law. 

"Has she won your good offices?" asked Coeranus; and Philostratusreplied, quickly, "Anything that it lies in my power to do for her shallcertainly be done. "

Berenike bade them both to join her in her own rooms, for everything thathad to do with the banquet was odious to her; and as they went, Melissatold her new friend her brother's story. She ended it in the quietsitting-room of the mistress of the house, an artistic but not splendidapartment, adorned only with the choicest works of early Alexandrian art. Philostratus listened attentively, but, before she could put her petitionfor help into words, he exclaimed:

"Then what we have to do is, to move Caesar to mercy, and that--Child, you know not what you ask!"

They were interrupted by a message from Seleukus, desiring Coeranus tojoin the other guests, and as soon as he had left them Berenike withdrewto take off the splendor she hated. She promised to return immediatelyand join their discussion, and Philostratus sat for a while lost inthought. Then he turned to Melissa and asked her:

"Would you for their sakes be able to make up your mind to face bitterhumiliation, nay, perhaps imminent danger?"

"Anything! I would give my life for them!" replied the girl, withspirit, and her eyes gleamed with such enthusiastic self-sacrifice thathis heart, though no longer young, warmed under their glow, and theprinciple to which he had sternly adhered since he had been near theimperial person, never to address a word to the sovereign but in reply, was blown to the winds. 

Holding her hand in his, with a keen look into her eyes, he went on:

"And if you were required to do a thing from which many a man even wouldrecoil--you would venture?"

And again the answer was a ready "Yes. " Philostratus released her hand, and said:

"Then we will dare the worst. I will smooth the way for you, andto-morrow--do not start--tomorrow you yourself, under my protection, shall appeal to Caesar. "

The color faded from the girl's cheeks, which had been flushed with freshhopes, and her counselor had just expressed his wish to talk the matterover with the lady Berenike, when she came into the room. She was nowdressed in mourning, and her pale, beautiful face showed the traces ofthe tears she had just shed. The dark shadows which, when they surrounda woman's eyes, betray past storms of grief, as the halo round the moon--the eye of night--gives warning of storms to come, were deeper thanever; and when her sorrowful gaze fell on Melissa, the girl felt analmost irresistible longing to throw herself into her arms and weep onher motherly bosom. 

Philostratus, too, was deeply touched by the appearance of this mother, who possessed so much, but for whom everything dearest to a woman's hearthad been destroyed by a cruel stroke of Fate. He was glad to be able totell her that he hoped to soften Caesar. Still, his plan was a bold one;Caracalla had been deeply offended by the scornful tone of the attacks onhim, and Melissa's brother was perhaps the only one of the scoffers whohad been taken. The crime of the Alexandrian wits could not be leftunpunished. For such a desperate case only desperate remedies couldavail; he therefore ventured to propose to conduct Melissa into Caesar'spresence, that she might appeal to his clemency. 

The matron started as though a scorpion had stung her. In greatagitation, she threw her arm round the girl as if to shelter her fromimminent danger, and Melissa, seeking help, laid her head on that kindbreast. Berenike was reminded, by the scent that rose up from the girl'shair, of the hours when her own child had thus fondly clung to her. Her motherly heart had found a new object to love, and exclaiming, "Impossible!" she clasped Melissa more closely. 

But Philostratus begged to be heard. Any plea urged by a third person hedeclared would only be the ruin of the rash mediator. 

"Caracalla, " he went on, looking at Melissa, "is terrible in hispassions, no one can deny that; but of late severe suffering has madehim irritably sensitive, and he insists on the strictest virtue in allwho are about his person. He pays no heed to female beauty, and thissweet child, at any rate, will find many protectors. He shall know thatthe high-priest's wife, one of the best of women, keeps an anxious eye onMelissa's fate; and I myself, his mother's friend, shall be at hand. Hispassion for revenge, on the other hand, is boundless--no one living cancontrol it; and not even the noble Julia can shield those who provoke itfrom a cruel end. If you do not know it, child, I can tell you that hehad his brother Geta killed, though he took refuge in the arms of themother who bore them both. You must understand the worst; and again Iask you, are you ready to risk all for those you love? Have you thecourage to venture into the lion's den?"

Melissa clung more closely to the motherly woman, and her pale lipsanswered faintly but firmly, "I am ready, and he will grant my prayer. "

"Child, child, " cried Berenike in horror, "you know not what lies beforeyou! You are dazzled by the happy confidence of inexperienced youth. I know what life is. I can see you, in your heart's blood, as red andpure as the blood of a lamb! I see--Ah, child! you do not know deathand its terrible reality. "

"I know it!" Melissa broke in with feverish excitement. "My dearest--mymother--I saw her die with these eyes. What did I not bury in her grave!And yet hope still lived in my heart; and though Caracalla may be areckless murderer, he will do nothing to me, precisely because I am sofeeble. And, lady, what am I? Of what account is my life if I lose myfather, and my brothers, who are both on the high-road to greatness?"

"But you are betrothed, " Berenike eagerly put in. "And your lover, youtold me, is dear to you. What of him? He no doubt loves you, and, ifyou come to harm, sorrow will mar his young life. "

At this Melissa clasped her hands over her face and sobbed aloud. "Showme, then, any other way--any! I will face the worst. But there is none;and if Diodoros were here he would not stop me; for what my heart promptsme to do is right, is my duty. But he is lying sick and with a cloudedmind, and I can not ask him. O noble lady, kindness looks out of youreyes; cease to rub salt into my wounds! The task before me is hardenough already. But I would do it, and try to get speech with thatterrible man, even if I had no one to protect me. "

The lady had listened with varying feelings to this outpouring of theyoung girl's heart. Every instinct rebelled against the thought ofsacrificing this pure, sweet creature to the fury of the tyrant whosewickedness was as unlimited as his power, and yet she saw no other chanceof saving the artist, whom she held in affectionate regard. Her ownnoble heart understood the girl's resolve to purchase the life of thoseshe loved, even with her blood; she, in the same place, would have donethe same thing; and she thought to herself that it would have made herhappy to see such a spirit in her own child. Her resistance melted away, and almost involuntarily she exclaimed, "Well, do what you feel to beright. "

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

On this the lady led him into an adjoining room, where the portrait ofher adored daughter was hanging. It was surrounded by a thick wreath ofviolets, the dead girl's favorite flower. The beautiful picture waslighted up by two three-branched lamps on high stands; and Philostratus, a connoisseur who had described many paintings with great taste andvividness, gazed in absorbed silence at the lovely features, which wererepresented with rare mastery and the inspired devotion of lovingadmiration. 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 whohas been snatched from you, noble lady, was indeed matchless, and nosorrow is too deep to do her justice. But the divinity who has taken herknows also how to give; and this portrait has preserved for you a part ofwhat you loved. This picture, too, may influence Melissa's fate; forCaesar has a fine taste in art, and one of the wants of our time whichhas helped to embitter him is the paralyzed state of the imitative arts. It will be easier to win his favor for the painter who did this portraitthan for a man of noble birth. He needs such painters as this Alexanderfor the Pinakothek in the splendid baths he has built at Rome. If youwould but lend me this treasure to-morrow--"

But she interrupted him with a decisive "Never!" and laid her hand onthe frame as if to protect it. Philostratus, however, was not to be putoff; he went on in a tone of the deepest disappointment: "This portraitis yours, and no one can wonder at your refusal. We must, therefore, consider how to attain our end without this important ally. " Berenike'sgaze had lingered calmly on the sweet face while he spoke, looking moreand more deeply into the beautiful, expressive features. All was silent. 

At last she slowly turned to Melissa, who stood gazing sadly at theground, and said in a low voice: "She resembled you in many ways. Thegods had formed her to shed joy and light around her. Where she couldwipe away a tear she always did so. Her portrait is speechless, and yetit tells me to act as she herself would have acted. If this work canindeed move Caracalla to clemency, then--You, Philostratus, really thinkso?"

"Yes, " he replied, decisively. "There can be no better mediator forAlexander than this work. " Berenike drew herself up, and said:

"Well, then, to-morrow morning early, I will send it to you at theSerapeum. The portrait of the dead may perish if it may but save thelife of him who wrought it so lovingly. " She turned away her face asshe gave the philosopher her hand, and then hastily left the room. 

Melissa flew after her and, with overflowing gratitude, besought thesobbing lady not to weep. 

"I know something that will bring you greater comfort than my brother'spicture: I mean the living image of your Korinna--a young girl; she ishere in Alexandria. "

"Zeno's daughter Agatha?" said Berenike; and when Melissa said yes, itwas she, the lady went on with a deep sigh: "Thanks for your kindthought, my child; but she, too, is lost to me. "

And as she spoke she sank on a couch, saying, in a low voice, "I wouldrather be alone. "

Melissa modestly withdrew into the adjoining room, and Philostratus, whohad been lost in the contemplation of the picture, took his leave. 

He did not make use of the imperial chariot in waiting for him, butreturned to his lodgings on foot, in such good spirits, and so wellsatisfied with himself, as he had not been before since leaving Rome. 

When Berenike had rested in solitude for some little time she recalledMelissa, and took as much care of her young guest as though she were herlost darling, restored to her after a brief absence. First she allowedthe girl to send for Argutis; and when she had assured the faithful slavethat all promised well, she dismissed him with instructions to await athome his young mistress's orders, for that Melissa would for the presentfind shelter under her roof. 

When the Gaul had departed, she desired her waiting-woman, Johanna, tofetch her brother. During her absence the lady explained to Melissathat they both were Christians. They were freeborn, the children of afreedman of Berenike's house. Johannes had at an early age shown so muchintelligence that they had acceded to his wish to be educated as alawyer. He was now one of the most successful pleaders in the city;but he always used his eloquence, which he had perfected not only atAlexandria but also at Carthage, by preference in the service of accusedChristians. In his leisure hours he would visit the condemned in prison, speak comfort to them, and give them presents out of the fine profits hederived from his business among the wealthy. He was the very man to goand see her father and brothers; he would revive their spirits, and carrythem her greeting. 

When, presently, the Christian arrived he expressed himself as very readyto undertake this commission. His sister was already busied in packingwine and other comforts for the captives-more, no doubt, as Johannes toldBerenike, than the three men could possibly consume, even if theirimprisonment should be a long one. His smile showed how confidently hecounted on the lady's liberality, and Melissa quickly put her faith inthe young Christian, who would have reminded her of her brother Philip, but that his slight figure was more upright, and his long hair quitesmooth, without a wave or curl. His eyes, above all, were unlikePhilip's; for they looked out on the world with a gaze as mild asPhilip's were keen and inquiring. 

Melissa gave him many messages for her father and brothers, and when thelady Berenike begged him to take care that the portrait of her daughterwas safely carried to the Serapeum, where it was to contribute to mollifyCaesar in the painter's favor, he praised her determination, and modestlyadded: "For how long may we call our own any of these perishable joys?A day, perhaps a year, at most a lustrum. But eternity is long, andthose who, for its sake, forget time and set all their hopes on eternity--which is indeed time to the soul--soon cease to bewail the loss of anytransitory treasure, were it the noblest and dearest. Oh, would that Icould lead you to place your hopes on eternity, best of women and mosttrue-hearted mother! Eternity, which not the wisest brain can conceiveof!--I tell you, lady, for you are a philosopher--that is the hardest andtherefore the grandest idea for human thought to compass. Fix your eyeon that, and in its infinite realm, which must be your future home, youwill meet her again whom you have lost--not her image returned to you, but herself. "

"Cease, " interrupted the matron, with impatient sharpness. "I know whatyou are aiming at. But to conceive of eternity is the prerogative of theimmortals; our intellect is wrecked in the attempt. Our wings melt likethose of Ikarus, and we fall into the ocean--the ocean of madness, towhich I have often been near enough. You Christians fancy you know allabout eternity, and if you are right in that--But I will not reopen thatold discussion. Give me back my child for a year, a month, a day even, as she was before murderous disease laid hands on her, and I will makeyou a free gift of your cuckoo-cloud-land of eternity, and of theremainder of my own life on earth into the bargain. "

The vehement woman trembled with renewed sorrow, as if shivering withague; but as soon as she had recovered her self-command enough to speakcalmly, she exclaimed to the lawyer:

"I do not really wish to vex you, Johannes. I esteem you, and you aredear to me. But if you wish our friendship to continue, give up thesefoolish attempts to teach tortoises to fly. Do all you can for the poorprisoners; and if you--"

"By daybreak to-morrow I will be with them, " Johannes said, and hehastily took leave. 

As soon as they were alone Berenike observed "There he goes, quiteoffended, as if I had done him a wrong. That is the way with all theseChristians. They think it their duty to force on others what theythemselves think right, and any one who turns a deaf ear to theirquestionable truths they at once set down as narrow-minded, or as hostileto what is good. Agatha, of whom you were just now speaking, and Zenoher father, my husband's brother, are Christians. I had hoped thatKorinna's death would have brought the child back to us; I have longedto see her, and have heard much that is sweet about her: but a commonsorrow, which so often brings divided hearts together, has only widenedthe gulf between my husband and his brother. The fault is not on ourside. Nay, I was rejoiced when, a few hours after the worst was over, a letter from Zeno informed me that he and his daughter would come tosee us the same evening. But the letter itself"--and her voice began toquiver with indignation--"compelled us to beg him not to come. It isscarcely credible--and I should do better not to pour fresh oil on mywrath--but he bade us 'rejoice'; three, four, five times he repeated thecruel words. And he wrote in a pompous strain of the bliss and rapturewhich awaited our lost child--and this to a mother whose heart had beenutterly broken but a few hours before by a fearful stroke of Fate! Hewould meet the bereaved, grieving, lonely mourner with a smile on hislips! Rejoice! This climax of cruelty or aberration has parted usforever. Why, our black gardener, whose god is a tree-stump that bearsonly the faintest likeness to humanity, melted into tears at the news;and Zeno, our brother, the uncle of that broken dower, could be glad andbid us rejoice! My husband thinks that hatred and the long-standing feudprompted his pen. For my part, I believe it was only this Christianfrenzy which made him suggest that I should sink lower than the brutes, who defend their young with their lives. Seleukus has long sinceforgiven him for his conduct in withdrawing his share of the capitalfrom the business when he became a Christian, to squander it on the basersort; but this 'Rejoice' neither he nor I can forgive, though thingswhich pierce me to the heart often slide off him like water off grease. "

Her black hair had come down as she delivered this vehement speech, and, when she ceased, her flushed cheeks and the fiery glow of her eyes gavethe majestic woman in her dark robes an aspect which terrified Melissa. 

She, too, thought this "Rejoice, " under such circumstances, unseemly andinsulting; but she kept her opinion to herself, partly out of modesty andpartly because she did not wish to encourage the estrangement betweenthis unhappy lady and the niece whose mere presence would have been sogreat a comfort to her. 

When Johanna returned to lead her to a bedroom, she gave a sigh ofrelief; but the lady expressed a wish to keep Melissa near her, and in alow voice desired the waiting-woman to prepare a bed for her in theadjoining room, by the side of Korinna's, which was never to bedisturbed. Then, still greatly excited, she invited Melissa into herdaughter's pretty room. 

There she showed her everything that Korinna had especially cared for. Her bird hung in the same place; her lap-dog was sleeping in a basket, on the cushion which Berenike had embroidered for her child. Melissa hadto admire the dead girl's lute, and her first piece of weaving, and theelegant loom of ebony and ivory in which she had woven it. And Berenikerepeated to the girl the verses which Korinna had composed, in imitationof Catullus, on the death of a favorite bird. And although Melissa'seyes were almost closing with fatigue, she forced herself to attend to itall, for she saw now how much her sympathy pleased her kind friend. 

Meanwhile the voices of the men, who had done eating and were nowdrinking, came louder and louder into the women's apartments. When themerriment of her guests rose to a higher pitch than usual, or somethingamusing gave rise to a shout of laughter, Berenike shrank, and eithermuttered some unintelligible threat or besought the forgiveness of herdaughter's manes. 

It seemed to be a relief to her to rush from one mood to the other; butneither in her grief, nor when her motherly feeling led her to talk, noryet in her wrath, did she lose her perfect dignity. All Melissa saw andheard moved her to pity or to horror. And meanwhile she was worn outwith anxiety for her family, and with increasing fatigue. 

At last, however, she was released. A gay chorus of women's voices andflutes came up from the banqueting-hall. With a haughty mien and dilatednostrils Berenike listened to the first few bars. That such a songshould be heard in her house of woe was too much; with her own hand sheclosed the shutters over the window next her; then she bade her youngguest go to bed. 

Oh, how glad was the overtired girl to stretch herself on the soft couch!As usual, before going to sleep, she told her mother in the spirit allthe history of the day. Then she prayed to the manes of the departed tolend her aid in the heavy task before her; but in the midst of her prayersleep overcame her, and her young bosom was already rising and falling inregular breathing when she was roused by a visit from the lady Berenike. 

Melissa suddenly beheld her at the head of the bed, in a flowing whitenight-dress, with her hair unpinned, and holding a silver lamp in herhand; and the girl involuntarily put up her arms as if to protectherself, for she fancied that the daemon of madness stared out of thoselarge black eyes. But the unhappy woman's expression changed, and shelooked down kindly on Melissa. She quietly set the lamp on the table, and then, as the cool nightbreeze blew in through the open window, towhich there was no shutter, she tenderly wrapped the white woolen blanketround Melissa, and muttered to herself, "She liked it so. "

Then she knelt down by the side of the bed, pressed her lips on the browof the girl, now fully awake, and said:

"And you, too, are fair to look upon. He will grant your prayer!"

Then she asked Melissa about her lover, her father, her mother, and atlast she, unexpectedly, asked her in a whisper:

"Your brother Alexander, the painter--My daughter, though in death, inspired his soul with love. Yes, Korinna was dear to him. Her imageis living in his soul. Am I right? Tell me the truth!"

On this Melissa confessed how deeply the painter had been impressed bythe dead girl's beauty, and that he had given her his heart and soul witha fervor of devotion of which she had never imagined him capable. Andthe poor mother smiled as she heard it, and murmured, "I was sure of it. "

But then she shook her head, sadly, and said "Fool that I am!"

At last she bade Melissa good-night, and went back to her own bedroom. There Johanna was awaiting her, and while she was plaiting her mistress'shair the matron said, threateningly:

"If the wretch should not spare even her"--She was interrupted by loudshouts of mirth from the banqueting-hall, and among the laughing voicesshe fancied that she recognized her husband's. She started up with avehement movement, and exclaimed, in angry excitement:

"Seleukus might have prevented such an outrage! Oh, I know thatsorrowing father's heart! Fear, vanity, ambition, love of pleasure--"

"But consider, " Johanna broke in, "to cross Caesar's wish is to forfeitlife!"

"Then he should have died!" replied the matron, with stern decision. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Before sunrise the wind changed. Heavy clouds bore down from the north, darkening the clear sky of Alexandria. By the time the market wasfilling it was raining in torrents, and a cold breeze blew over the townfrom the lake. Philostratus had only allowed himself a short time forsleep, sitting till long after midnight over his history of Apoloniusof Tyana. His aim was to prove, by the example of this man, that acharacter not less worthy of imitation than that of the lord of theChristians might be formed in the faith of the ancients, and nourishedby doctrines produced by the many-branched tree of Greek religion andphilosophy. Julia Domna, Caracalla's mother, had encouraged thephilosopher in this task, which was to show her passionate and criminalson the dignity of moderation and virtue. The book was also to bringhome to Caesar the religion of his forefathers and his country in all itsbeauty and elevating power; for hitherto he had vacillated from one formto another, had not even rejected Christianity, with which his nurse hadtried to inoculate him as a child, and had devoted himself to everysuperstition of his time in a way which had disgusted those about him. It had been particularly interesting to the writer, with a view to thepurpose of this work, to meet with a girl who practiced all the virtuesthe Christians most highly prized, without belonging to that sect, whowere always boasting of the constraining power of their religion inconducing to pure morality. 

In his work the day before he had taken occasion to regret the smallrecognition his hero had met with among those nearest to him. In this, as in other respects, he seemed to have shared the fate of Jesus Christ, whose name, however, Philostratus purposely avoided mentioning. Now, to-night, he reflected on the sacrifice offered by Melissa for Caesarwhom she knew not, and he wrote the following words as though proceedingfrom the pen of Apollonius himself: "I know well how good a thing it isto regard all the world as my home, and all mankind as my brethren andfriends; for we are all of the same divine race, and have all oneFather. "

Then, looking up from the papyrus, he murmured to himself: "From such apoint of view as this Melissa might see in Caracalla a friend and abrother. If only now it were possible to rouse the conscience of thatimperial criminal!"

He took up the written sheet on which he had begun a dissertation as towhat conscience is, as exerting a choice between good and evil. He hadwritten: "Understanding governs what we purpose; consciousness governswhat our understanding resolves upon. Hence, if our understanding choosethe good, consciousness is satisfied. "

How flat it sounded! It could have no effect in that form. 

Melissa had confessed with far greater warmth what her feelings had beenafter she had sacrificed for the suffering sinner. Every one, no doubt, would feel the same who, when called on to choose between good and evil, should prefer the good; so he altered and expanded the last words:"Thus consciousness sends a man with song and gladness into thesanctuaries and groves, into the roads, and wherever mortals live. Evenin sleep the song makes itself heard, and a happy choir from the land ofdreams lift up their voices about his bed. "

That was better! This pleasing picture might perhaps leave someimpression on the soul of the young criminal, in whom a preference forgood could still, though rarely, be fanned to a flame. Caesar read whatPhilostratus wrote, because he took pleasure in the form of his work; andthis sentence would not have been written in vain if only it shouldprompt Caracalla in some cases, however few, to choose the good. 

The philosopher was fully determined to do his utmost for Melissa andher brothers. He had often brought pictures under Caesar's notice, forhe was the first living authority as a connoisseur of painting, and ashaving written many descriptions of pictures. He built some hopes, too, on Melissa's innocence; and so the worthy man, when he retired to rest, looked forward with confidence to the work of mediation, which was by nomeans devoid of danger. 

But next morning it presented itself in a less promising light. Theclouded sky, the storm, and rain might have a fatal effect on Caesar'stemper; and when he heard that old Galen, after examining his patient andprescribing certain remedies, had yesterday evening taken ship, leavingCaracalla in a frenzy of rage which had culminated in slight convulsions, he almost repented of his promise. However, he felt himself pledged; soas early as possible he went to Caesar's rooms, prepared for the worst. 

His gloomy anticipations were aggravated by the scene which met his eyes. 

In the anteroom he found the chief men of the city and somerepresentative members of the Alexandrian Senate, who were anxiousfor an audience of their imperial visitor. They had been commanded toattend at an unusually early hour, and had already been kept a long timewaiting. 

When Philostratus--who was always free to enter Caesar's presence--madehis appearance, Caracalla was seating himself on the throne which hadbeen placed for him in the splendidly fitted audience-chamber. He hadcome from his bath, and was wrapped in the comfortable white woolen robewhich he wore on leaving it. His "friends" as they were called, senators, and other men of mark, stood round in considerable numbers, among them the high-priest of Serapis. Pandion, Caesar's charioteer, wasoccupied, under the sovereign's instructions, in fastening the lion'schain to the ring fixed for the purpose in the floor by the side of thethrone; and as the beast, whose collar had been drawn too tight, uttereda low, complaining growl, Caracalla scolded the favorite. As soon as hecaught sight of Philostratus, he signed to him to approach:

"Do you see nothing strange in me?" he whispered. "Your Phoebus Apolloappeared to me in a dream. He laid his hand on my shoulder towardmorning; indeed, I saw only horrible faces. " Then he pointed out of thewindow, exclaiming:

"The god hides his face to-day. Gloomy days have often brought me goodfortune; but this is a strange experience of the eternal sunshine ofEgypt! Men and sky have given me the same kind welcome; gray, gray, andalways gray-without and within--and my poor soldiers out on the square!Macrinus tells me they are complaining. But my father's advice wassound: "Keep them content, and never mind anything else. " The heads ofthe town are waiting outside; they must give up their palaces to thebodyguard; if they murmur, let them try for themselves how they likesleeping on the soaking ground under dripping tents. It may cool theirhot blood, and perhaps dilute the salt of their wit. --Show them in, Theocritus. "

He signed to the actor, and when he humbly asked whether Caesar hadforgotten to exchange his morning wrapper for another dress, Caracallalaughed contemptuously, and replied:

"Why, an empty corn-sack over my shoulders would be dress enough for thisrabble of traders!" He stretched his small but muscular frame out atfull length, resting his head on his hand, and his comely face, which hadlost the suffering look it had worn the day before, suddenly changed inexpression. As was his habit when he wished to inspire awe or fear, heknit his brows in deep furrows, set his teeth tightly, and assumed asuspicious and sinister scowl. 

The deputation entered, bowing low, headed by the exegetes, the head ofthe city, and Timotheus, the chief-priest of Serapis. After these camethe civic authorities, the members of the senate, and then, asrepresenting the large Jewish colony in the city, their alabarch or head-man. It was easy to see in each one as he came in, that the presence ofthe lion, who had raised his head at their approach, was far fromencouraging; and a faint, scornful smile parted Caracalla's lips as henoted the cowering knees of these gorgeously habited courtiers. Thehigh-priest alone, who, as Caesar's host, had gone up to the side of thethrone, and two or three others, among them the governor of the town, atall, elderly man of Macedonian descent, paid no heed to the brute. TheMacedonian bowed to his sovereign with calm dignity, and in the name ofthe municipally hoped he had rested well. He then informed Caesar whatshows and performances were prepared in his honor, and finally named theconsiderable sum which had been voted by the town of Alexandria toexpress to him their joy at his visit. Caracalla waved his hand, andsaid, carelessly:

"The priest of Alexander, as idiologos, will receive the gold with thetemple tribute. We can find use for it. We knew that you were rich. But what do you want for your money? What have you to ask?"

"Nothing, noble Caesar, " replied the governor. "Thy gracious presence--"

Caracalla interrupted him with a long-drawn "Indeed!" Then, leaningforward, he gave him a keen, oblique look. "No one but the gods hasnothing to wish for; so it must be that you are afraid to ask. What canthat avail, unless to teach me that you look for nothing but evil fromme; that you are suspicious of me? And if that is so, you fear me; andif you fear, you hate me. The insults I have received in this housesufficiently prove the fact. And if you hate me, " and he sprang up andshook his fist, "I must protect myself!"

"Great Caesar, " the exegetes began, in humble deprecation, but Caracallawent on, wrathfully:

"I know when I have to protect myself, and from whom. It is not well totrifle with me! An insolent tongue is easily hidden behind the lips; butheads are less easy to hide, and I shall be content with them. Tell thatto your Alexandrian wits! Macrinus will inform you of all else. You maygo. "

During this speech the lion, excited by his master's furious gestures, had risen on his feet and showed his terrible teeth to the delegates. At this their courage sank. Some laid their hands on their bent knees, as if to shield them; others had gradually sidled to the door beforeCaesar had uttered the last word. Then, in spite of the efforts of thegovernor and the alabarch to detain them, in the hope of pacifying thepotentate, as soon as they heard the word "go, " they hurried out; and, for better or for worse, the few bolder spirits had to follow. 

As soon as the door was closed upon them, Caesar's features lost theircruel look. He patted the lion with soothing words of praise, andexclaimed, contemptuously:

"These are the descendants of the Macedonians, with whom the greatest ofheroes conquered the world! Who was that fat old fellow who shrank intohimself so miserably, and made for the door while I was yet speaking?"

"Kimon, the chief of the night-watch and guardian of the peace of thecity, " replied the high-priest of Alexander, who as a Roman had kept hisplace by the throne; and Theocritus put in:

"The people must sleep badly under the ward of such a coward. Let himfollow the prefect, noble Caesar. "

"Send him his dismissal at once, " said Caracalla; "but see that hissuccessor is a man. "

He then turned to the high-priest, and politely requested him to assistTheocritus in choosing a new head for the town-guard, and Timotheus andthe favorite quitted the room together. 

Philostratus took ingenious advantage of the incident, by at onceinforming the emperor that it had come to his knowledge that this coward, so worthily dismissed from office, had, on the merest suspicion, castinto prison a painter who was undoubtedly one of the first of livingartists, and with him his guiltless relations. 

"I will not have it!" Caesar broke out. "Nothing but blood will do anygood here, and petty aggravations will only stir their bile and increasetheir insolence. Is the painter of whom you speak an Alexandrian?--Ipine for the open air, but the wind blows the rain against the windows. "

"In the field, " the philosopher remarked, "you have faced the weatherheroically enough. Here, in the city, enjoy what is placed before you. Only yesterday I still believed that the art of Apelles was utterlydegenerate. But since then I have changed my opinion, for I have seen aportrait which would be an ornament to the Pinakothek in your baths. Thenorthern windows are closed, or, in this land of inundations, and in suchweather as this, we might find ourselves afloat even under cover of aroof; so it is too dark here to judge of a painting, but your dressing-room is more favorably situated, and the large window there will serveour purpose. May I be allowed the pleasure of showing you there the workof the imprisoned artist?"

Caesar nodded, and led the way, accompanied by his lion and followed bythe philosopher, who desired an attendant to bring in the picture. 

In this room it was much lighter than in the audience-chamber, and whileCaracalla awaited, with Philostratus, the arrival of the painting, hisIndian body-slave, a gift from the Parthian king, silently and skillfullydressed his thin hair. The sovereign sighed deeply, and pressed his handto his brow as though in pain. The philosopher ventured to approach him, and there was warm sympathy in his tone as he asked:

"What ails you, Bassianus? Just now you bore all the appearance of ahealthy, nay, and of a terrible man!"

"It is better again already, " replied the sovereign. " And yet--!"

He groaned again, and then confessed that only yesterday he had in thesame way been tortured with pain. 

"The attack came on in the morning, as you know, " he went on, "and whenit was past I went down into the court of sacrifice; my feet wouldscarcely carry me. Curiosity--and they were waiting for me; and somegreat sign might be shown! Besides, some excitement helps me throughthis torment. But there was nothing--nothing! Heart, lungs, liver, allin their right place. --And then, Galenus--What I like is bad for me, whatI loathe is wholesome. And again and again the same foolish question, 'Do you wish to escape an early death?' And all with an air as thoughDeath were a slave at his command--He can, no doubt, do more than others, and has preserved his own life I know not how long. Well, and it is hisduty to prolong mine. 

"I am Caesar. I had a right to insist on his remaining here. I did so;for he knows my malady, and describes it as if he felt it himself. Iordered him--nay, I entreated him. But he adhered to his own way. Hewent--he is gone!"

"But he may be of use to you, even at a distance, " Philostratus said. 

"Did he do anything for my father, or for me in Rome, where he saw meevery day?" retorted Caesar. "He can mitigate and relieve the suffering, but that is all; and of all the others, is there one fit to hand him acup of water? Perhaps he would be willing to cure me, but he can not;for I tell you, Philostratus, the gods will not have it so. You knowwhat sacrifices I have offered, what gifts I have brought. I haveprayed, I have abased myself before them, but none will hear. One oranother of the gods, indeed, appears to me not infrequently as Apollo didlast night. But is it because he favors me? First, he laid his hand onmy shoulder, as my father used to do; but his was so heavy, that theweight pressed me down till I fell on my knees, crushed. This is no goodsign, you think? I see it in your face. I do not myself think so. Andhow loudly I have called on him, of all the gods! The whole empire, theysay, men and women alike, besought the immortals unbidden for the welfareof Titus. I, too, am their lord; but"--and he laughed bitterly--"who hasever raised a hand in prayer for me of his own impulse? My own motheralways named my brother first. He has paid for it, --But the rest!"

"They fear rather than love you, " replied the philosopher. "He to whomPhoebus Apollo appears may always expect some good to follow. Andyesterday--a happy omen, too--I overheard by chance a young Greek girl, who believed herself unobserved, who of her own prompting ferventlyentreated Asklepios to heal you. Nay, she collected all the coins in herlittle purse, and had a goat and a cock sacrificed in your behalf. "

"And you expect me to believe that!" said Caracalla, with a scornfullaugh. 

But Philostratus eagerly replied:

"It is the pure truth. I went to the little temple because it was saidthat Apollonius had left some documents there. Every word from his penis, as you know, of value to me in writing his history. The littlelibrary was screened off from the cella by a curtain, and while I washunting through the manuscripts I heard a woman's voice. "

"It spoke for some other Bassianus, Antoninus, Tarautus, or whatever theychoose to call me, " Caesar broke in. 

"Nay, my lord, not so. She prayed for you, the son of Severus. I spoketo her afterwards. She had seen you yesterday morning, and fancied shehad noted how great and severe your sufferings were. This had gone toher heart. So she went thither to pray and sacrifice for you, althoughshe knew that you were prosecuting her brother, the very painter of whomI spoke. I would you too could have heard how fervently she addressedthe god, and then Hygeia!"

"A Greek, you say?" Caracalla remarked. "And she really did not knowyou, or dream that you could hear her?"

"No, my lord; assuredly not. She is a sweet maid, and if you would careto see her--"

Caesar had listened to the tale with great attention and evidentexpectancy; but suddenly his face clouded, and, heedless of the slaveswho, under the guidance of his chamberlain Adventus, had now brought inthe portrait, he sprang up, went close to Philostratus, and stormed out:

"Woe to you if you lie to me! You want to get the brother out of prison, and then, by chance, you come across the sister who is praying for me! Afable to cheat a child with!"

"I am speaking the truth, " replied Philostratus, coolly, though the rapidwinking of Caesar's eyelids warned him that his blood was boiling withwrath. 

"It was from the sister, whom I overheard in the temple, that I learnedof her brother's peril, and I afterward saw that portrait. "

Caracalla stared at the floor for a moment in silence; then he looked up, and said, in a tone husky with agitation:

"I only long for anything which may bring me nearer to the perverse raceover whom I rule, be it what it may. You offer it me. You are the onlyman who never asked me for anything. I have believed you to be asrighteous as all other men are not. And now if you, if this time--"

He lowered his tones, which had become somewhat threatening, and went onvery earnestly: "By all you hold most sacred on earth, I ask you, Did thegirl pray for me, and of her own free impulse, not knowing that any onecould hear her?"

"I swear it, by the head of my mother!" replied Philostratus, solemnly. 

"Your mother?" echoed Caesar, and his brow began to clear. But suddenlythe gleam of satisfaction, which for a moment had embellished hisfeatures, vanished, and with a sharp laugh he added: "And my mother! Doyou suppose that I do not know what she requires of you? It is solely toplease her that you, a free man, remain with me. For her sake you arebold enough to try now and then to quell the stormy sea of my passions. You do it with a grace, so I submit. And now my hand is raised to strikea wretch who mocks at me; he is a painter, of some talent, so, of course, you take him under your protection. Then, in a moment, your inventivegenius devises a praying sister. Well, there is in that something whichmight indeed mollify me. But you would betray Bassianus ten times overto save an artist. And then, how my mother would fly to show hergratitude to the man who could quell her furious son! Your mother!--But I only squint when it suits me. My eye must become dimmer than ityet is before I fail to see the connection of ideas which led you toswear by your mother. You were thinking of mine when you spoke. Toplease her, you would deceive her son. But as soon as he touches thelie it vanishes into thin air, for it has no more substance than a soapbubble!" The last words were at once sad, angry, and scornful; but thephilosopher, who had listened at first with astonishment and then withindignation, could no longer contain himself. 

"Enough!" he cried to the angry potentate, in an imperious tone. Then, drawing himself up, he went on with offended dignity:

"I know what the end has been of so many who have aroused your wrath, andyet I have courage enough to tell you to your face, that to injustice, the outcome of distrust, you add the most senseless insult. Or do youreally think that a just man--for so you have called me more than once--would outrage the manes of the beloved woman who bore him to please themother of another man, even though she be Caesar's? What I swear to bythe head of my mother, friend and foe alike must believe; and he who doesnot, must hold me to be the vilest wretch on earth; my presence can onlybe an offense to him. So I beg you to allow me to return to Rome. "

The words were manly and spoken firmly, and they pleased Caracalla; forthe joy of believing in the philosopher's statement outweighed everyother feeling. And since he regarded Philostratus as the incarnation ofgoodness--though he had lost faith in that--his threat of leavingdisturbed him greatly. He laid his hand on his brave adviser's arm, andassured him that he was only too happy to believe a thing so incredible. 

Any witness of the scene would have supposed this ruthless fatricide, this tyrant--whose intercourse with the visions of a crazed and unbridledfancy made him capable of any folly, and who loved to assume the aspectof a cruel misanthrope--to be a docile disciple, who cared for nothingbut to recover the favor and forgiveness of his master. AndPhilostratus, knowing this man, and the human heart, did not make it tooeasy for him to achieve his end. When he at last gave up his purpose ofreturning to Rome, and had more fully explained to Caesar how and wherehe had met Melissa, and what he had heard about her brother the painter, he lifted the wrapper from Korinna's portrait, placed it in a good light, and pointed out to Caracalla the particular beauties of the purely Greekfeatures. 

It was with sincere enthusiasm that he expatiated on the skill with whichthe artist had reproduced in color the noble lines which Caracalla somuch admired in the sculpture of the great Greek masters; how warm andtender the flesh was; how radiant the light of those glorious eyes; howliving the waving hair, as though it still breathed of the scented oil!And when Philostratus explained that though Alexander had no doubt spokensome rash and treasonable words, he could not in any case be the authorof the insulting verses which had been found at the Serapeum with therope, Caracalla echoed his praises of the picture, and desired to seeboth the painter and his sister. 

That morning, as he rose from his bed, he had been informed that theplanets which had been seen during the past night from the observatory ofthe Serapeum, promised him fortune and happiness in the immediate future. He was himself a practiced star-reader, and the chief astrologer of thetemple had pointed out to him how peculiarly favorable the constellationwas whence he had deduced his prediction. Then, Phoebus Apollo hadappeared to him in a dream; the auguries from the morning's sacrificeshad all been favorable; and, before he dispatched Philostratus to fetchMelissa, he added:

"It is strange! The best fortune has always come to me from a gloomysky. How brightly the sun shone on my marriage with the odiousPlautilla! It has rained, on the contrary, on almost all my victories;and it was under a heavy storm that the oracle assured me the soul ofAlexander the Great had selected this tortured frame in which to live outhis too early ended years on earth. Can such coincidence be mere chance?Phoebus Apollo, your favorite divinity--and that, too, of the sage ofTyana--may perhaps have been angry with me. He who purified himself fromblood-guiltiness after killing the Python is the god of expiation. Iwill address myself to him, like the noble hero of your book. Thismorning the god visited me again; so I will have such sacrifice slainbefore him as never yet was offered. Will that satisfy you, Ophilosopher hard to be appeased?"

"More than satisfy me, my Bassianus, " replied Philostratus. "Yetremember that, according to Apollonius, the sacrifice is effective onlythrough the spirit in which it is offered. "

"Always a 'but' and an 'if'!" exclaimed Caracalla, as his friend left theroom to call Melissa from the high-priest's quarters, where she waswaiting. 

For the first time for some days Caesar found himself alone. Leading thelion by the collar, he went to the window. The rain had ceased, butblack clouds still covered the heavens. Below him lay the opening of thestreet of Hermes into the great square, swarming with human life, andcovered with the now drenched tents of the soldiery; and his eyes fell onthat of a centurion, a native of Alexandria, just then receiving a visitfrom his family, to whom the varied fortunes of a warrior's life hadbrought him back once more. 

The bearded hero held an infant in his arms--assuredly his own--while agirl and boy clung to him, gazing up in his face with wondering blackeyes; and another child, of about three, paying no heed to the others, was crowing as it splashed through a puddle with its little bare feet. Two women, one young and one elderly, the man's mother and his wife, nodoubt, seemed to hang on his lips as he recounted perhaps some deed ofvalor. 

The tuba sounded to arms. He kissed the infant, and carefully laid it onits mother's bosom; then he took up the boy and the girl, laughinglycaught the little one, and pressed his bearded lips to each rosy mouth inturn. Last of all he clasped the young wife to his breast, gentlystroked her hair, and whispered something in her ear at which she smiledup at him through her tears and then blushingly looked down. His motherpatted him fondly on the shoulder, and, as they parted, he kissed her tooon her wrinkled brow. 

Caracalla had remarked this centurion once before; his name wasMartialis, and he was a simple, commonplace, but well-conducted creature, who had often distinguished himself by his contempt for death. Theimperial visit to Alexandria had meant for him a return home and thegreatest joy in life. How many arms had opened to receive the commonsoldier; how many hearts had beat high at his coming! Not a day, it wascertain, had passed since his arrival without prayers going up to Heavenfor his preservation, from his mother, his wife, and his children. Andhe, the ruler of the world, had thought it impossible that one, even oneof his millions of subjects, should have prayed for him. Who awaited himwith a longing heart? Where was his home?

He had first seen the light in Gaul. His father was an African; hismother was born in Syria. The palace at Rome, his residence, he did notcare to remember. He traveled about the empire, leaving as wide a spaceas possible between himself and that house of doom, from which he couldnever wipe out the stain of his brother's blood. 

And his mother? She feared--perhaps she hated him--her first-born son, since he had killed her younger darling. What did she care for him, solong as she had her philosophers to argue with, who knew how to ply herwith delicate flattery?

Then Plautilla, his wife? His father had compelled him to marry her, the richest heiress in the world, whose dowry had been larger than thecollected treasure of a dozen queens; and as he thought of the sharpfeatures of that insignificant, sour-faced, and unspeakably pretentiouscreature, he shuddered with aversion. 

He had banished her, and then had her murdered. Others had done thedeed, and it did not strike him that he was responsible for the crimecommitted in his service; but her loveless heart, without a care forhim--her bird-sharp face, looking out like a well-made mask from herabundant hair--and her red, pinched lips, were very present to him. What cutting words those lips could speak; what senseless demands theyhad uttered; and nothing more insolent could be imagined than her wayof pursing them up if at any time he had suggested a kiss!

His child? One had been born to him, but it had followed its mother intoexile and to the grave. The little thing, which he had scarcely known, was so inseparable from its detested mother that he had mourned it nomore than her. It was well that the assassins, without any orders fromhim, should have cut short that wretched life. He could not long for theembraces of the monster which should have united Plautilla's vices andhis own. 

Among the men about his person, there was not one for whom other heartsbeat warmer; no creature that loved him excepting his lion; no spot onearth where he was looked for with gladness. He waited, as for somemarvel, to see the one human being who had spontaneously entreated thegods for him. The girl must probably be a poor, tearful creature, asweak of brain as she was soft-hearted. 

There stood the centurion at the head of his maniple, and raised hisstaff. Enviable man! How content he looked; how clearly he spoke theword of command! And how healthy the vulgar creature must be--while he, Caesar, was suffering that acute headache again! He gnashed his teeth, and felt a strong impulse to spoil the happiness of that shamelessupstart. If he were sent packing to Spain, now, or to Pontus, therewould be an end of his gladness. The centurion should know what it wasto be a solitary soul. 

Acting on this malignant impulse, he had raised his hand to his mouth toshout the cruel order to a tribune, when suddenly the clouds parted, andthe glorious sun of Africa appeared in a blue island amid the ocean ofgray, cheering the earth with glowing sheaves of rays. The beams wereblinding as they came reflected from the armor and weapons of the men, reminding Caesar of the god to whom he had just vowed an unparalleledsacrifice. 

Philostratus had often praised Phoebus Apollo above all gods, becausewherever he appeared there was light, irradiating not the earth alone butmen's souls; and because, as the lord of music and harmony, he aided mento arrive at that morally pure and equable frame of mind which wasaccordant and pleasing to his glorious nature. Apollo had conquered thedark heralds of the storm, and Caracalla looked up. Before this radiantwitness he was ashamed to carry out his dark purpose, and he said, addressing the sun:

"For thy sake, Phoebus Apollo, I spare the man. " Then, pleased withhimself, he looked down again. The restraint he had laid upon himselfstruck him as in fact a great and noble effort, accustomed as he was toyield to every impulse. But at the same time he observed that theclouds, which had so often brought him good fortune, were dispersing, andthis gave him fresh uneasiness. Dazzled by the flood of sunshine whichpoured in at the window, he withdrew discontentedly into the room. Ifthis bright day were to bring disaster? If the god disdained hisoffering?

But was not Apollo, perhaps, like the rest of the immortals, an idol ofthe fancy, living only in the imagination of men who had devised it?Stern thinkers and pious folks, like the skeptics and the Christians, laughed the whole tribe of the Olympians to scorn. Still, the hand ofPhoebus Apollo had rested heavily on his shoulders in his dream. Hispower, after all, might be great. The god must have the promisedsacrifice, come what might. Bitter wrath rose up in his soul at thisthought, as it had often done before, with the immortals, against whomhe, the all-powerful, was impotent. If only for an hour they could behis subjects, he would make them rue the sufferings by which they spoiledhis existence. 

"He is called Martialis. I will remember that name, " he thought, as hecast a last envious look at the centurion. 

How long Philostratus was gone! Solitude weighed on him, and he lookedabout him wildly, as though seeking some support. An attendant at thismoment announced the philosopher, and Caracalla, much relieved, went intothe tablinum to meet him. There he sat down on a seat in front of thewriting-table strewn with tablets and papyrus-rolls, rearranged the endof the purple toga for which he had exchanged his bathing-robe, restedone foot on the lion's neck and his head on his hand. He would receivethis wonderful girl in the character of an anxious sovereign meditatingon the welfare of his people. 

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Galenus--What I like is bad for me, what I loathe is wholesome