CHAPTER XVII.
The philosopher announced the visitor to Caesar, and as some littletime elapsed before Melissa came in, Caracalla forgot his theatricalassumption, and sat with a drooping head; for, in consequence, no doubt,of the sunshine which beat on the top of his head, the pain had suddenlybecome almost unendurably violent.
Without vouchsafing a glance at Melissa, he swallowed one of thealleviating pills left him by Galenus, and hid his face in his hands.The girl came forward, fearless of the lion, for Philostratos hadassured her that he was tamed, and most animals were willing to let hertouch them. Nor was she afraid of Caesar himself, for she saw that hewas in pain, and the alarm with which she had crossed the thresholdgave way to pity. Philostratus kept at her side, and anxiously watchedCaracalla.
The courage the simple girl showed in the presence of the ferociousbrute, and the not less terrible man, struck him favorably, and hishopes rose as a sunbeam fell on her shining hair, which the ladyBerenike had arranged with her own hand, twining it with strands ofwhite Bombyx. She must appear, even to this ruthless profligate, as thevery type of pure and innocent grace.
Her long robe and peplos, of the finest white wool, also gave her an airof distinction which suited the circumstances. It was a costly garment,which Berenike had had made for Korinna, and she had chosen it fromamong many instead of the plainer robe in which old Dido had dressedher young mistress. With admirable taste the matron had aimed at givingMelissa a simple, dignified aspect, unadorned and almost priestess-likein its severity. Nothing should suggest the desire to attract, andeverything must exclude the idea of a petitioner of the poorer andcommoner sort.
Philostratus saw that her appearance had been judiciously cared for; butCaesar's long silence, of which he knew the reason, began to cause himsome uneasiness: for, though pain sometimes softened the despot's mood,it more often prompted him to revenge himself, as it were, for his ownsufferings, by brutal attacks on the comfort and happiness of others.And, at last, even Melissa seemed to be losing the presence of mindhe had admired, for he saw her bosom heave faster and higher, her lipsquivered, and her large eyes sparkled through tears.
Caesar's countenance presently cleared a little. He raised his head,and as his eye met Melissa's she pronounced in a low, sweet voice thepleasant Greek greeting, "Rejoice!"
At this moment the philosopher was seized with a panic of anxiety; hefelt for the first time the weight of responsibility he had taken onhimself. Never had he thought her so lovely, so enchantingly bewitchingas now, when she looked up at Caracalla in sweet confusion and timidity,but wholly possessed by her desire to win the favor of the man who, witha word, could make her so happy or so wretched. If this slave of hispassions, whom a mere whim perhaps had moved to insist on the strictestmorality in his court, should take a fancy to this delightful youngcreature, she was doomed to ruin. He turned pale, and his heart throbbedpainfully as he watched the development of the catastrophe for which hehad himself prepared the way.
But, once more, the unexpected upset the philosopher's anticipations.Caracalla gazed at the girl in amazement, utterly discomposed, as thoughsome miracle had happened, or a ghost had started from the groundbefore him. Springing up, while he clutched the back of his chair, heexclaimed:
"What is this? Do my senses deceive me, or is it some base trickery? No,no! My eyes and my memory are good. This girl--"
"What ails thee, Caesar?" Philostratus broke in, with increasinganxiety.
"Something--something which will silence your foolish doubts--" Caesarpanted out. "Patience--wait. Only a minute, and you shall see.--But,first"--and he turned to Melissa--"what is your name, girl?"
"Melissa," she replied, in a low and tremulous voice.
"And your father's and your mother's?"
"Heron is my father's name, and my mother--she is dead--was calledOlympias, the daughter of Philip."
"And you are of Macedonian race?"
"Yes, my lord. My father and mother both were of pure Macedoniandescent."
The emperor glanced triumphantly at Philostratus, and brieflyexclaiming, "That will do, I think," he clapped his hands, and instantlyhis old chamberlain, Adventus, hurried in from the adjoining room,followed by the whole band of "Caesar's friends." Caracalla, however,only said to them:
"You can wait till I call you.--You, Adventus! I want the gem with themarriage of Alexander." The freedman took the gem out of an ebonycasket standing on Caesar's writing-table, and Caracalla, holding thephilosopher by the arm, said, with excited emphasis:
"That gem I inherited from my father, the divine Severus. It wasengraved before that child came into the world. Now you shall see it,and if you then say that it is an illusion--But why should you doubt it?Pythagoras and your hero Apollonius both knew whose body their souls hadinhabited in a former existence. Mine--though my mother has laughed atmy belief, and others have dared to do the same-mine, five hundred yearsago, dwelt in the greatest of heroes, Alexander the Macedonian--a rightroyal tabernacle!"
He snatched the gem from the chamberlain's hand, and while he devouredit with his eyes, looking from time to time into Melissa's face, heeagerly ran on:
"It is she. None but a blind man, a fool, a malignant idiot, coulddoubt it! Any who henceforth shall dare mock at my conviction that I wasbrought into the world to fulfill the life-span of that great hero, willlearn to rue it! Here--it is but natural--here, in the city he foundedand which bears his name, I have found positive proof that the bondwhich unites the son of Philip with the son of Severus is somethingmore than a mere fancy. This maiden--look at her closely--is there-embodiment of the soul of Roxana, as I am of that of her husband.Even you must see now how naturally it came about that she should uplifther heart and hands in prayer for me. Her soul, when it once dwelt inRoxana, was fondly linked with that of the hero; and now, in the bosomof this simple maiden, it is drawn to the unforgotten fellow-soul whichhas found its home in my breast."
He spoke with enthusiastic and firm conviction of the truth of hisstrange imagining, as though he were delivering a revelation from thegods. He bade Philostratus approach and compare the features of Roxana,as carved in the onyx, with those of the young supplicant.
The fair Persian stood facing Alexander; they were clasping each other'shands in pledge of marriage, and a winged Hymen fluttered above theirheads with his flaming torch.
Philostratus was, in fact, startled as he looked at the gem, andexpressed his surprise in the liveliest terms, for the features ofRoxana as carved in the cameo, no larger than a man's palm, were, linefor line, those of the daughter of Heron. And this sport of chance couldnot but be amazing to any one who did not know--as neither of the threewho were examining the gem knew--that it was a work of Heron's youth,and that he had given Roxana the features of his bride Olympias, whoseliving image her daughter Melissa had grown to be.
"And how long have you had this work of art?" asked Philostratus.
"I inherited it, as I tell you, from my father," replied Caracalla."Severus sometimes wore it.--But wait. After the battle of Issos, inhis triumph over Pescennius Niger--I can see him now--he wore it on hisshoulder, and that was--"
"Two-and-twenty years ago," the philosopher put in; and Caracalla,turning to Melissa, asked her:
"How old are you, child?"
"Eighteen, my lord." And the reply delighted Caesar; he laughed aloud,and looked triumphantly at Philostratus.
The philosopher willingly admitted that there was something strange inthe incident, and he congratulated Caesar on having met with such strongconfirmation of his inward conviction. The soul of Alexander might nowdo great things through him.
During this conversation the alarm which had come over Melissa atCaesar's silence had entirely disappeared. The despot whose sufferinghad appealed to her sympathetic soul, now struck her as singular ratherthan terrible. The idea that she, the humble artist's daughter, couldharbor the soul of a Persian princess, amused her; and when the lionlifted his head and lashed the floor with his tail at her
approach, shefelt that she had won his approbation. Moved by a sudden impulse, shelaid her hand on his head and boldly stroked it. The light, warm touchsoothed the fettered prince of the desert, and, rubbing his brow againstMelissa's round arm, he muttered a low, contented growl.
At this Caesar was enchanted; it was to him a further proof of hisstrange fancy. The "Sword of Persia" was rarely so friendly to any one;and Theocritus owed much of the favor shown him by Caracalla to the factthat at their first meeting the lion had been on particularly goodterms with him. Still, the brute had never shown so much liking for anystranger as for this young girl, and never responded with such eagerswinging of his tail excepting to Caesar's own endearments. It must beinstinct which had revealed to the beast the old and singular bond whichlinked his master and this new acquaintance. Caracalla, who, in all thathappened to him, traced the hand of a superior power, pointed this outto Philostratus, and asked him whether, perhaps, the attack of pain hehad just suffered might not have yielded so quickly to the presence ofthe revived Roxana rather than to Galen's pills.
Philostratus thought it wise not to dispute this assumption, andsoon diverted the conversation to the subject of Melissa's imprisonedrelations. He quietly represented to Caracalla that his noblest taskmust be to satisfy the spirit of her who had been so dear to the herowhose life he was to fulfill; and Caesar, who was delighted that thephilosopher should recognize as a fact the illusion which flattered him,at once agreed. He questioned Melissa about her brother Alexander with agentleness of which few would have thought him capable; and the soundof her voice, as she answered him modestly but frankly and with sisterlyaffection, pleased him so well that he allowed her to speak withoutinterruption longer than was his wont. Finally, he promised her that hewould question the painter, and, if possible, be gracious to him.
He again clapped his hands, and ordered a freedman named Epagathos, whowas one of his favorite body-servants, to send immediately for Alexanderfrom the prison.
As before, when Adventus had been summoned, a crowd followed Epagathos,and, as Caesar did not dismiss them, Melissa was about to withdraw; thedespot, however, desired her to wait.
Blushing, and confused with shyness, she remained standing by Caesar'sseat; and though she only ventured to raise her eyes now and then for astolen look, she felt herself the object of a hundred curious, defiant,bold, or contemptuous glances.
How gladly would she have escaped, or have sunk into the earth! Butthere she had to stand, her teeth set, while her lips trembled, to checkthe tears which would rise.
Caesar, meanwhile, took no further notice of her. He was longing torelate at full length, to his friends and companions, the wonderful andimportant thing that had happened; but he would not approach the subjectwhile they took their places in his presence. Foremost of them, withTheocritus, came the high-priest of Serapis, and Caracalla immediatelydesired them to introduce the newly appointed head-guardian of thepeace. But the election was not yet final. The choice lay, Theocritusexplained, between two equally good men. One, Aristides, was a Greek ofhigh repute, and the other was only an Egyptian, but so distinguishedfor zealous severity that, for his part, he should vote for him.
At this the high-priest broke in, saying that the man favored byTheocritus did in fact possess the qualities for which he was commended,but in such a measure that he was utterly hated by the Greek population;and in Alexandria more could be achieved by justice and mercy than bydefiant severity.
But at this the favorite laughed, and said that he was convinced of thecontrary. A populace which could dare to mock at the divine Caesar, theguest of their city, with such gross audacity, must be made to smartunder the power of Rome and its ruler. The deposed magistrate had losthis place for the absurd measures he had proposed, and Aristides was indanger of following in his footsteps.
"By no means," the high-priest said, with calm dignity. "The Greek,whom I would propose, is a worthy and determined man. Now, Zminis theEgyptian, the right hand of the man who has been turned out, is, it mustbe said, a wretch without ruth or conscience."
But here the discussion was interrupted. Melissa, whose ears had tingledas she listened, had started with horror as she heard that Zminis, thein former, was to be appointed to the command of the whole watch ofthe city. If this should happen, her brothers and father were certainlylost. This must be prevented. As the high-priest ceased speaking, shelaid her hand on Caesar's, and, when he looked up at her in surprise,she whispered to him, so low and so quickly that hardly any one observedit "Not Zminis; he is our mortal enemy!"
Caracalla scarcely glanced at the face of the daring girl, but he sawhow pale she had turned. The delicate color in her cheeks, and thedimple he had seen while she stroked the lion had struck him asparticularly fascinating. This had helped to make her so like the Roxanaon the gem, and the change in her roused his pity. She must smileagain; and so, accustomed as he was to visit his annoyance on others, heangrily exclaimed to his "Friends":
"Can I be everywhere at once? Can not the simplest matter be settledwithout me? It was the praetorian prefect's business to report to meconcerning the two candidates, if you could not agree; but I have notseen him since last evening. The man who has to be sought when I needhim neglects his duty! Macrinus usually knows his. Does any one knowwhat has detained him?"
The question was asked in an angry, nay, in an ominous tone, but thepraetorian prefect was a powerful personage, whose importance made himalmost invulnerable. Yet the praetor Lucius Priscillianus was ready withan answer. He was the most malicious and ill-natured scandal-monger atcourt; and he hated the prefect, for he himself had coveted the post,which was the highest in the state next to Caesar's. He had always someslaves set to spy upon Macrinus, and he now said, with a contemptuousshrug:
"It is a marvel to me that so zealous a man--though he is alreadybeginning to break down under his heavy duties--should be so late.However, he here spends his evenings and nights in special occupations,which must of course be far from beneficial to the health and peace ofmind which his office demands."
"What can those be?" asked Caracalla; but the praetor added without apause:
"Merciful gods! Who would not crave to glance into the future?"
"And it is that which makes him late?" said Caesar, with more curiositythan anger.
"Hardly by broad daylight," replied Priscillianus. "The spirits he wouldfain evoke shun the light of day, it is said. But he may be weary withlate watching and painful agitations."
"Then he calls up spirits at night?"
"Undoubtedly, great Caesar. But, in this capital of philosophy, spiritsare illogical it would seem. How can Macrinus interpret the prophecythat he, who is already on the highest step attainable to us lowermortals, shall rise yet higher?"
"We will ask him," said Caesar, indifferently. "But you--guard yourtongue. It has already cost some men their heads, whom I would gladlysee yet among the living. Wishes can not be punished. Who does not wishto stand on the step next above his own? You, my friend, would like thatof Macrinus.--But deeds! You know me! I am safe from them, so long aseach of you so sincerely grudges his neighbor every promotion. You, myLucius, have again proved how keen your sight is, and, if it were nottoo great an honor for this refractory city to have a Roman in the togapraetexta at the head of its administration, I should like to make youthe guardian of the peace here. You see me," he went on, "in an elatedmood to-day.--Cilo, you know this gem which came tome from my father.Look at it, and at this maiden.--Come nearer, priest of the divineAlexander; and you too consider the marvel, Theocritus, Antigonus, Dio,Pandion, Paulinus. Compare the face of the female figure with this girlby my side. The master carved this Roxana long before she was born.You are surprised? As Alexander's soul dwells in me, so she is Roxana,restored to life. It has been proved by irrefragable evidence in thepresence of Philostratus."
The priest of Alexander here exclaimed, in a tone of firm conviction:
"A marvel indeed! We bow down to the noble vessel of the soul ofAlexander.
I, the priest of that hero, attest that great Caesar hasfound that in which Roxana's soul now exists." And as he spoke hepressed his hand to his heart, bowing low before Caesar; the restimitated his example. Even Julius Paulinus, the satirist, followedthe Roman priest's lead; but he whispered in the ear of Cassius Dio"Alexander's soul was inquisitive, and wanted to see how it could livein the body which, of all mortal tenements on earth, least resembles hisown."
A mocking word was on the ex-consul's lips as to the amiable frame ofmind which had so suddenly come over Caesar; but he preferred to watchand listen, as Caracalla beckoned Theocritus to him and begged him togive up the appointment of Zminis, though, as a rule, he indulgedthe favorite's every whim. He could not bear, he said, to intrust thedefense of his own person and of the city of Alexander to an Egyptian,so long as a Greek could be found capable of the duty. He proposedpresently to have the two candidates brought before him, and to decidebetween them in the presence of the prefect of the praetorians. Then,turning to those of his captains who stood around him, he said:
"Greet my soldiers from me. I could not show myself to them yesterday.I saw just now, with deep regret, how the rain has drenched them inthis luxurious city. I will no longer endure it. The praetorians and theMacedonian legion shall be housed in quarters of which they will tellwonders for a long time to come. I would rather see them sleeping inwhite wool and eating off silver than these vile traders. Tell themthat."
He was here interrupted, for Epagathos announced a deputation fromthe Museum, and, at the same time, the painter Alexander, who had beenbrought from prison. At this Caracalla exclaimed with disgust:
"Spare me the hair-splitting logicians!--Do you, Philostratus, receivethem in my name. If they make any impudent demands, you may tell themmy opinion of them and their Museum. Go, but come back quickly. Bringin the painter. I will speak with him alone.--You, my friends, withdrawwith our idiologos, the priest of Alexander, who is well known here, andvisit the city. I shall not require you at present."
The whole troop hastened to obey. Caracalla now turned to Melissa oncemore, and his eye brightened as he again discerned the dimple in hercheeks, which had recovered their roses. Her imploring eyes met his,and the happy expectation of seeing her brother lent them a light whichbrought joy to the friendless sovereign. During his last speech hehad looked at her from time to time; but in the presence of so manystrangers she had avoided meeting his gaze. Now she thought that shemight freely show him that his favor was a happiness to her. Her soul,as Roxana, must of course feel drawn to his; in that he firmly believed.Her prayer and sacrifice for him sufficiently proved it--as he toldhimself once more.
When Alexander was brought in, it did not anger him to see that thebrother, who held out his arms to Melissa in his habitual eager way, hadto be reminded by her of the imperial presence. Every homage was dueto this fair being, and he was, besides, much struck by Alexander'ssplendid appearance. It was long since any youthful figure had sovividly reminded him of the marble statues of the great Athenianmasters. Melissa's brother stood before him, the very embodiment of theideal of Greek strength and manly beauty. His mantle had been taken fromhim in prison, and he wore only the short chiton, which also left barehis powerful but softly modeled arms. He had been allowed no time toarrange and anoint his hair, and the light-brown curls were tossed indisorderly abundance about his shapely head. This favorite of the godsappeared in Caesar's eyes as an Olympic victor, who had come to claimthe wreath with all the traces of the struggle upon him.
No sign of fear, either of Caesar or his lion, marred this impression.His bow, as he approached the potentate, was neither abject nor awkward,and Caesar felt bitter wrath at the thought that this splendid youth,of all men, should have selected him as the butt of his irony. He wouldhave regarded it as a peculiar gift of fortune if this man--such abrother of such a sister--could but love him, and, with the eye of anartist, discern in the despot the great qualities which, in spite of hismany crimes, he believed he could detect in himself. And he hoped, withan admixture of anxiety such as he had never known before, that thepainter's demeanor would be such as should allow him to show mercy.
When Alexander besought him with a trustful mien to consider his youth,and the Alexandrian manners which he had inherited both from his parentsand his grandparents, if indeed his tongue had wagged too boldly inspeaking of the all-powerful Caesar, and to remember the fable of thelion and the mouse, the scowl he had put on to impress the youth withhis awfulness and power vanished from Caesar's brow. The idea that thisgreat artist, whose sharp eye could so surely distinguish the hideousfrom the beautiful, should regard him as ill-favored, was odious to him.He had listened to him in silence; but suddenly he inquired of Alexanderwhether it was indeed he, whom he had never injured, who had written thehorrible epigram nailed with the rope to the door of the Serapeum andwhen the painter emphatically denied it, Caesar breathed as though aburden had fallen from his soul. He nevertheless insisted on hearingfrom the youth's own lips what it was that he had actually dared to say.After some hesitation, during which Melissa besought Caesar in vain tospare her and her brother this confession, Alexander exclaimed:
"Then the hunted creature must walk into the net, and, unless yourclemency interferes, on to death! What I said referred partly to thewonderful strength that you, my lord, have so often displayed in thefield and in the circus; and also to another thing, which I myself nowtruly repent of having alluded to. It is said that my lord killed hisbrother."
"That--ah! that was it!" said Caesar, and his face, involuntarily thistime, grew dark.
"Yes, my lord," Alexander went on, breathing hard. "To deny it would beto add a second crime to the former one, and I am one of those who wouldrather jump into cold water both feet at once, when it has to be done.All the world knows what your strength is; and I said that it wasgreater than that of Father Zeus; for that he had cast his sonHephaestos only on the earth, and your strong fist had cast your brotherthrough the earth into the depths of Hades. That was all. I have notadded nor concealed anything."
Melissa had listened in terror to this bold confession. Papinian, thebrave praetorian prefect, one of the most learned lawyers of his time,had incurred Caracalla's fury by refusing to say that the murder ofGeta was not without excuse; and his noble answer, that it was easier tocommit fratricide than to defend it, cost him his life.
So long as Caesar had been kind to her, Melissa had felt repelled byhim; but now, when he was angry, she was once more attracted to him.
As the wounds of a murdered man are said to bleed afresh when themurderer approaches, Caracalla's irritable soul was wont to break outin a frenzy of rage when any one was so rash as to allude to this,his foulest crime. This reference to his brother's death had as usualstirred his wrath, but he controlled it; for as a torrent of rainextinguishes the fire which a lightning-flash has kindled, the homage tohis strength, in Alexander's satire, had modified his indignation. Theirony which made the artist's contemptuous words truly witty, would nothave escaped Caracalla's notice if they had applied to any one else;but he either did not feel it, or would not remark it, for the sakeof leaving Melissa in the belief that his physical strength was reallywonderful. Besides, he thus could indulge his wish to avoid pronouncingsentence of death on this youth; he only measured him with a severe eye,and said in threatening tones, to repay mockery in kind and to remindthe criminal of the fate imperial clemency should spare him:
"I might be tempted to try my strength on you, but that it is worse totry a fall with a vaporing wag, the sport of the winds, than with theson of Caesar. And if I do not condescend to the struggle, it isbecause you are too light for such an arm as this." And as he spoke heboastfully grasped the muscles which constant practice had made thickand firm. "But my hand reaches far. Every man-at-arms is one of itsfingers, and there are thousands of them. You have made acquaintancealready, I fancy, with those which clutched you."
"Not so," replied Alexander, with a faint smile, as he bowed humbly. "Ishould not dare r
esist your great strength, but the watch-dogs of thelaw tried in vain to track me. I gave myself up."
"Of your own accord?"
"To procure my father's release, as he had been put in prison."
"Most magnanimous!" said Caesar, ironically. "Such a deed sounds well,but is apt to cost a man his life. You seem to have overlooked that."
"No, great Caesar; I expected to die."
"Then you are a philosopher, a contemner of life."
"Neither. I value life above all else; for, if it is taken from me,there is an end of enjoying its best gifts."
"Best gifts!" echoed Caesar. "I should like to know which you honor withthe epithet."
"Love and art."
"Indeed?" said Caracalla, with a swift glance at Melissa. Then, in analtered voice, he added, "And revenge?"
"That," said the artist, boldly, "is a pleasure I have not yet tasted.No one ever did me a real injury till the villain Zminis robbed myguiltless father of his liberty; and he is not worthy to do suchmischief, as a finger of your imperial hand."
At this, Caesar looked at him suspiciously, and said in stern tones:
"But you have now the opportunity of trying the fine flavor ofvengeance. If I were timid--since the Egyptian acted only as myinstrument--I should have cause to protect myself against you."
"By no means," said the painter, with an engaging smile, "it lies inyour power to do me the greatest benefit. Do it, Caesar! It would be ajoy to me to show that, though I have been reckless beyond measure, I amnevertheless a grateful man."
"Grateful?" repeated Caracalla, with a cruel laugh. Then he rose slowly,and looked keenly at Alexander, exclaiming:
"I should almost like to try you."
"And I will answer for it that you will never regret it!" Melissa putin. "Greatly as he has erred, he is worthy of your clemency."
"Is he?" said Caesar, looking down at her kindly. "What Roxana's soulaffirms by those rosy lips I can not but believe."
Then again he paused, studying Alexander with a searching eye, andadded:
"You think me strong; but you will change that opinion--which Ivalue--if I forgive you like a poor-spirited girl. You are in my power.You risked your life. If I give it you, I must have a gift in return,that I may not be cheated."
"Set my father free, and he will do whatever you may require of him,"Melissa broke out. But Caracalla stopped her, saying: "No one makesconditions with Caesar. Stand back, girl."
Melissa hung her head and obeyed; but she stood watching the eagerdiscussion between these two dissimilar men, at first with anxiety andthen with surprise.
Alexander seemed to resist Caesar's demands; but presently the despotmust have proposed something which pleased the artist, for Melissaheard the low, musical laugh which had often cheered her in moments ofsadness. Then the conversation was more serious, and Caracalla said, soloud that Melissa could hear him:
"Do not forget to whom you speak. If my word is not enough, you can goback to prison." Then again she trembled for her brother; but some softword of his mollified the fury of the terrible man, who was never thesame for two minutes together. The lion, too, which lay unchained by hismaster's seat, gave her a fright now and then; for if Caesar raised hisvoice in anger, he growled and stood up.
How fearful were this beast and his lord! Rather would she spend herwhole life on a ship's deck, tossed to and fro by the surges, than sharethis man's fate. And yet there was in him something which attracted her;nay, and it nettled her that he should forget her presence.
At last Alexander humbly asked Caracalla whether he might not tellMelissa to what he had pledged his word.
"That shall be my business," replied Caesar. "You think that a mere girlis a better witness than none at all. Perhaps you are right. Then let itbe understood: whatever you may have to report to me, my wrath shall notturn against you. This fellow--why should you not be told, child?--isgoing into the town to collect all the jests and witty epigrams whichhave been uttered in my honor."
"Alexander!" cried Melissa, clasping her hands and turning pale withhorror. But Caracalla laughed to himself, and went on cheerfully:
"Yes, it is dangerous work, no doubt; and for that reason I pledged myword as Caesar not to require him to pay for the sins of others. On thecontrary, he is free, if the posy he culls for me is sufficient."
"Ay," said Alexander, on whom his sister's white face and warning lookswere having effect. "But you made me another promise on which I laygreat stress. You will not compel me to tell you, nor try to discoverthrough any other man, who may have spoken or written any particularsatire."
"Enough!" said Caracalla, impatiently; but Alexander was not to bechecked. He went on vehemently: "I have not forgotten that you saidconditions were not to be made with Caesar; but, in spite of myimpotence, I maintain the right of returning to my prison and thereawaiting my doom, unless you once more assure me, in this girl'spresence, that you will neither inquire as to the names of the authorsof any gibes I may happen to have heard, nor compel me by any meanswhatever to give up the names of the writers of epigrams. Why should Inot satisfy your curiosity and your relish of a sharp jest? But ratherthan do the smallest thing which might savor of treachery--ten timesrather the axe or the gallows!"
And Caracalla replied with a dark frown, loudly and briefly:
"I promise."
"And if your rage is too much for you?" wailed Melissa, raising herhands in entreaty; but the despot replied, sternly:
"There is no passion which can betray Caesar into perjury."
At this moment Philostratus came in again, with Epagathos, who announcedthe praetorian prefect. Melissa, encouraged by the presence of her kindprotector, went on:
"But, great Caesar, you will release my father and my other brother?"
"Perhaps," replied Caracalla. "First we will see how this one carriesout his task."
"You will be satisfied, my lord," said the young man, looking quitehappy again, for he was delighted at the prospect of saying audaciousthings to the face of the tyrant whom all were bent on flattering, andholding up the mirror to him without, as he firmly believed, bringingany danger on himself or others.
He bowed to go. Melissa did the same, saying, as airily as though shewere free to come and go here:
"Accept my thanks, great Caesar. Oh, how fervently will I pray for youall my life, if only you show mercy to my father and brothers!"
"That means that you are leaving me?" asked Caracalla.
"How can it be otherwise?" said Melissa, timidly. "I am but a girl, andthe men whom you expect--"
"But when they are gone?" Caesar insisted.
"Even then you can not want me," she murmured.
"You mean," said Caracalla, bitterly, "that you are afraid to come back.You mean that you would rather keep out of the way of the man you prayedfor, so long as he is well. And if the pain which first aroused yoursympathy attacks him again, even then will you leave the irasciblesovereign to himself or the care of the gods?"
"Not so, not so," said Melissa, humbly, looking into his eyes with anexpression that pierced him to the heart, so that he added, with gentleentreaty:
"Then show that you are she whom I believe you to be. I do not compelyou. Go whither you will, stay away even if I send for you; but"--andhere his brow clouded again--"why should I try to be merciful to herfrom whom I looked for sympathy and kindliness, when she flees from melike the rest?"
"O my lord!" Melissa sighed distressfully. "Go!" Caesar went on. "I donot need you."
"No, no," the girl cried, in great trouble. "Call me, and I will come.Only shelter me from the others, and from their looks of scorn; only--Oimmortal gods!--If you need me, I will serve you, and willingly, withall my heart. But if you really care for me, if you desire my presence,why let me suffer the worst?" Here a sudden flood of tears choked herutterance. A smile of triumph passed over Caesar's features, and drawingMelissa's hands away from her tearful face, he said, kindly:
"Alexander's soul pines for Roxana's
; that is what makes your presenceso dear to me. Never shall you have cause to rue coming at my call.I swear it by the manes of my divine father--you, Philostratus, arewitness."
The philosopher, who thought he knew Caracalla, gave a sigh of relief;and Alexander gladly reflected that the danger he had feared for hissister was averted. This craze about Roxana, of which Caracalla had justnow spoken to him as a certain fact, he regarded as a monstrous illusionof this strange man's, which would, however, be a better safeguard forMelissa than pledges and oaths.
He clasped her hand, and said with cheerful confidence: "Only send forher when you are ill, my lord, as long as you remain here. I know fromyour own lips that there is no passion which can betray Caesar intoperjury. Will you permit her to come with me for the present?"
"No," said Caracalla, sharply, and he bade him go about the businesshe had in hand. Then, turning to Philostratus, he begged him to conductMelissa to Euryale, the high-priest's noble wife, for she had been akind and never-forgotten friend of his mother's.
The philosopher gladly escorted the young girl to the matron, who hadlong been anxiously awaiting her return.