CHAPTER VIII.
The sun had passed the meridian when Melissa and Andreas left the house.They walked on in silence through the deserted streets, the girl withher eyes sadly fixed on the ground; for an inward voice warned her thather lover's life was in danger. She did not sob, but more than once shewiped away a large tear.
Andreas, too, was lost in his own thoughts. To win a soul to the Saviourwas surely a good work. He knew Melissa's sober, thoughtful nature,and the retired, joyless life she led with her surly old father. So hisknowledge of human nature led him to think that she, if any one, mighteasily be won over to the faith in which he found his chief happiness.Baptism had given such sanctification to his life that he longed to leadthe daughter of the only woman for whom his heart had ever beat a shadefaster, to the baptismal font. In the heat of summer Olympias had oftenbeen the guest for weeks together of Polybius's wife, now likewisedead. Then she had taken a little house of her own for herself and herchildren, and when his master's wife died, the lonely widower had knownno greater pleasure than that of receiving her on his estate for as longas Heron would allow her to remain; he himself never left his workfor long. Thus Andreas had become the great ally of the gem-cutter'schildren, and, as they could learn nothing from him that was not goodand worth knowing, Olympias had gladly allowed them to remain in hissociety, and herself found a teacher and friend in the worthy steward.She knew that Andreas had joined the Christians; she had made him tellher much about his faith; still, as the daughter and wife of artists,she was firmly attached to the old gods, and could only regard theChristian doctrine as a new system of philosophy in which many thingsattracted her, but many, on the other hand, repelled her. At that timehis passion for Melissa's mother had possessed him so wholly thathis life was a constant struggle against the temptation to covet hisneighbor's wife. And he had conquered, doing severe penance for everyglance which might for an instant betray to her the weakness of hissoul. She had loved flowers, and he knew the plant-world so well, andwas so absolutely master over everything which grew and bloomed inthe gardens of which he had charge, that he could often intrust hisspeechless favorites to tell her things which lips and eyes might notreveal. Now she was no more, and the culture of plants had lost half itscharm since her eyes could no longer watch their thriving. He now leftthe gardens for the most part to his men, while he devoted himself toother cares with double diligence, and to the strictest exercises of hisfaith.
But, as many a man adores the children of the woman he might not marry,Alexander and Melissa daily grew dearer to Andreas. He took a father'sinterest in their welfare, and, needing little himself, he carefullyhoarded his ample income to promote the cause of Christianity andencourage good works; but he had paid Alexander's debts when his time ofapprenticeship was over, for they were so considerable that the recklessyouth had not dared confess the sum to his stern father.
Very soon after this, Alexander had become one of the most popularpainters of the town; and when he proposed to repay his friend the moneyhe had lent him, Andreas accepted it; but he added it to a capital ofwhich the purpose was his secret, but which, if his prayers were heard,might return once more to benefit Alexander. Diodoros, too, was as dearto the freedman as a son of his own could have been, though he was aheathen. In the gymnasium and the race-course, or in the practice of themysteries, the good seed which he sowed in the lad's heart was troddendown. Polybius, too, was an utter heathen; indeed, he was one of thepriests of Dionysus and Demeter, as his wealth and position in thesenate required.
Then, Diodoros had confessed to him that he hoped to win Melissa for hiswife, and this had been adverse to Andreas's hope and purpose of makinga Christian of the girl; for he knew by experience how easily marriedhappiness was wrecked when man and wife worship different gods. But whenthe freedman had again seen the gem-cutter's brutality and the girl'sfilial patience, an inward voice had called to him that this gentle,gifted creature was one of those elect from among whom the Lord chosethe martyrs for the faith; and that it was his part to lead her into thefold of the Redeemer. He had begun the work of converting her with thezeal he put into everything. But fresh doubts had come upon him on thethreshold of the sick-room, after seeing the lad who was so dear to him,and whose eye had met his with such a trustful, suffering look. Could itbe right to sow the seed of discord between him and his future wife? Andsupposing Diodoros, too, should be converted by Melissa, could he thusalienate from his father the son and heir of Polybius--his benefactorand master?
Then, he remembered, too, to what a position he had risen through thatmaster's confidence in him. Polybius knew nothing of the concerns of hishouse but from the reports laid before him by Andreas; for the stewardcontrolled not merely the estate but the fortune of the family, and foryears had been at the head of the bank which he himself had founded toincrease the already vast income of the man to whom he owed his freedom.Polybius paid him a considerable portion of each year's profits, and hadsaid one day at a banquet, with the epigrammatic wit of an Alexandrian,that his freedman, Andreas, served his interests as only one other mancould do--namely, himself--but with the industry of ten. The Christiangreatly appreciated his confidence; and as he walked on by the side ofMelissa, he told himself again and again that it would be dishonorableto betray it.
If only the sweet girl might find the way alone! If she were chosen tosalvation, the Lord himself would lead and guide her. Had he indeednot beckoned her already by impressing on her heart those words, "Thefullness of the time is now come?"
That he was justified in keeping this remembrance alive he had no doubt;and he was about to speak of it again, when she prevented him by raisingher large eyes beseechingly to his, and asking him:
"Is Diodoros in real danger? Tell me the truth. I would rather endurethe worst than this dreadful anxiety."
So Andreas acknowledged that the youth was in a bad way, but thatPtolemaeus, himself well-skilled, hoped to cure him if his greatercolleague Galenus would aid him.
"And it is to secure his assistance, then," Melissa went on, "that theleech would have him carried to the Serapeum?"
"Yes, my child. For he is in Caesar's train, and it would be vain to tryto speak with him to-day or to-morrow."
"But the journey through the town will do the sufferer a mischief."
"He will be carried in a litter."
"But even that is not good for him. Perfect quiet, Ptolemaeus said, wasthe best medicine."
"But Galenus has even better remedies at hand," was the reply.
Melissa seemed satisfied with this assurance, for she walked on for sometime in silence. But when the uproar of the crowd in the vicinity of theSerapeum became more audible as they advanced, she suddenly stood still,and said:
"Come what may, I will find my way to the great physician's presenceand crave his help." "You?" cried the freedman; and when she firmlyreiterated her purpose, the strong man turned pale.
"You know not what you say!" he exclaimed, in deep concern. "The men whoguard the approaches to Caracalla are ruthless profligates, devoid ofcourtesy or conscience. But, you may rely upon it, you will not even getinto the antechamber."
"Perhaps. Nevertheless, it is my duty, and I will try."
How firmly and decisively she spoke! And what strength of will sparkledin the quiet, modest maiden's eyes! And the closely set lips, whichusually were slightly parted, and hardly covered two of her pearly whiteteeth, gave her a look of such determination, that Andreas could seethat no obstacle would check her.
Still, love and duty alike required him to use every means in his powerto keep her from taking such a step. He lavished all his eloquence; butshe adhered to her purpose with steadfast persistency, and none of thereasons he could adduce to prove the impossibility of the undertakingconvinced her. The only point which staggered her was the informationthat the great leech was an old man, who walked with difficulty; andthat Galen, as a heathen and a disciple of Aristotle, would never beinduced to enter a Christian dwelling. Both these facts might be aser
ious hindrance to her scheme; yet she would not now stop to reflect.They had got back to the great street of Hermes, leading from the templeof that god to the Serapeum, and must cross it to reach the lake, theirimmediate destination. As in all the principal streets of Alexandria, acolonnade bordered the street in front of the houses on each side of thewide and handsome roadway. Under these arcades the foot-passengers wereclosely packed, awaiting Caesar's passage. He must soon be coming, forthe reception, first at the Kanopic Gate, and then at the Gate of theSun, was long since over; and, even if he had carried out his purposeof halting at the tomb of Alexander the Great, he could not be detainedmuch longer. The distance hither down the Kanopic Way was not great, andswift horses would quickly bring him down the Aspendia street to thatof Hermes, leading straight to the Serapeum. His train was not to followhim to the Soma, the mausoleum of the founder of the city, but to turnoff to the southward by the Paneum, and make a round into the street ofHermes.
The praetorians, the German body-guard, the imperial Macedonian phalanx,and some mounted standard-bearers had by this time reached the spotwhere Melissa was proceeding up the street holding Andreas's hand.Close by them came also a train of slaves, carrying baskets full ofpalm-leaves and fresh branches of ivy, myrtle, poplar, and pine, fromthe gardens of the Paneum, to be carried to the Serapeum. They wereescorted by lictors, endeavoring with their axes and fasces to make away for them through the living wall which barred their way.
By the help of the mounted troops, who kept the main road clear, spacewas made for them; and Andreas, who knew one of the overseers of thegarden-slaves, begged him as a favor to allow Melissa and himself towalk among his people. This was willingly granted to so well-known aman; and the way was quite free for the moment, because the imperialcartage had not followed immediately on the soldiers who had now allmarched past. Thus, among the flower-bearers, they reached the middle ofthe street; and while the slaves proceeded on their way to the Serapeum,the freedman tried to cross the road, and reach the continuation of thestreet they had come by, and which led to the lake. But the attempt wasfrustrated, for some Roman lictors who had just come up stood in theirway, and sent them to the southern side of the street of Hermes, tomingle with the gaping crowd under the arcade.
They were, of course, but ill received by these, since they naturallyfound themselves in front of the foremost rank; but the stalwart frameand determined face of Andreas, and the exceptional beauty of his youngcompanion, over whose pretty head most of the gazers could easily see,protected her from rough treatment.
Andreas spoke a few words of apology to those standing nearest to them,and a young goldsmith at once courteously made way, so that Melissa, whohad taken a place behind a column, might see better.
And in a few minutes--there was that to see which made every one forgetthe intruders. Vehicles and outriders, litters swung between mules, anda long train of imperial footmen, in red tunics embroidered withgold, huntsmen with leashes of noble dogs, baggage-wagons and loadedelephants, came trooping down toward the Serapeum; while suddenly,from the Aspendia into the Hermes Way, the Numidian horse rushed out,followed by a troop of mounted lictors, who galloped up the street,shouting their orders in loud tones to the imperial train, in a mixtureof Latin and Greek, of which Melissa understood only the words "Caesar!"and "Make way to the right!"
The command was instantly obeyed. Vehicles, foot-passengers, and ridersalike crowded to the southern or left-hand side of the road, and themany-headed throng, of which Andreas and Melissa formed a part, drew asfar back as possible under the colonnade; for on the edge of the footwaythere was the risk of being trampled on by a horse or crushed by awheel. The back rows of the populace, who had collected under thearcades, were severely squeezed by this fresh pressure from without, andtheir outcries were loud of anger, alarm; or pain; while on the otherside of the street arose shouts of delight and triumph, or, whenanything singular came into view, loud laughter at the wit and irony ofsome jester. Added to these there were the clatter of hoofs and the rollof wheels, the whinnying of horses, the shouts of command, the rattle ofdrums, the blare of trumpets, and the shrill pipe of flutes, withouta moment's pause. It was a wild and ear-splitting tumult; to Melissa,however, neither painful nor pleasing, for the one idea, that she mustspeak with the great physician, silenced every other. But suddenly therecame up from the east, from the rising of the sun, whose course Caesarhad followed, such a tremendous roar that she involuntarily clutched hercompanion's hand.
Every instant the storm of noise increased, rolling on with irresistiblevehemence, gathering force as it came on, receiving, as it were, freshtributaries on its way, and rapidly swelling from the distance to theimmediate vicinity, compelling every one, as with a magic power, toyield to the superior will of numbers and join in the cry. Even Melissacheered. She, too, was as a drop in the tide, a leaf on the ripplingface of the rushing torrent; her heart beat as wildly and her voice rangas clear as that of the rest of the throng, intoxicated with they knewnot what, which crowded the colonnades by the roadway, and every windowand roof-top, waving handkerchiefs, strewing flowers on the ground, andwiping the tears which this unwonted excitement had brought to theireyes.
And now the shout is so tremendous that it could not possibly be louder.It seems as though it were the union of voices innumerable rather thanthe seabreeze, which flutters the pennons and flags which wave fromevery house and arch, and sways the garlands hung across the street.Melissa can see none but flushed faces, eyes swimming in tears, partedlips, wildly waving arms and hands. Then suddenly a mysterious powerhushes the loud tones close round her; she hears only here and there thecry of "Caesar!" "He is coming!" "Here he is!"--and the swift trampof hoofs and the clatter of wheels sounding like the rattle of an ironbuilding after a peal of thunder, above the shouts of ten thousand humanbeings. Closer it comes and closer, without a pause, and followed byfresh shouting, as a flock of daws follow an owl flying across thetwilight, swelling again to irrepressible triumph as the expectedpotentate rushes past Melissa and her neighbors. They only see Caesaras a form scarcely discerned by the eye during the space of alightning-flash in a dark night.
Four tawny bay horses of medium size, dappled with black, harnessedabreast and wide apart, fly along the cleared road like hunted foxes,the light Gallic chariot at their heels. The wheels seem scarcely totouch the smooth flags of the Alexandrian pavement. The charioteer wearsthe red-bordered toga of the highest Roman officials. He is well knownby repute, and the subject of many a sharp jest; for this is Pandion,formerly a stableboy, and now one of "Caesar's friends," a praetor, andone of the great men of the empire. But he knows his business; andwhat does Caracalla care for tradition or descent, for the murmurs anddiscontent of high or low?
Pandion holds the reins with elegant composure, and urges the horses toa frantic pace by a mere whistle, without ever using the whip. But whyis it that he whirls the mighty monarch of half a world, before whosebloodthirsty power every one quakes, so swiftly past these eagerspectators? Sunk in the cushions on one side, Bassianus Antoninus isreclining rather than sitting in the four-wheeled open chariot of Gallicmake which sweeps past. He does not vouchsafe a glance at the jubilantcrowd, but gazes down at the road, his well-shaped brow so deeplyfurrowed with gloom that he might be meditating some evil deed.
It is easy to discern that he is of middle height; that his upper lipand cheeks are unshaven, and his chin smooth; that his hair is alreadythin, though he lacks two years of thirty; and that his complexion ispale and sallow; indeed, his aspect is familiar from statues and coins,many of which are of base metal.
Most of those who thus beheld the man who held in his hand the fateof each individual he passed, as of the empire at large, involuntarilyasked themselves afterward what impression he had made on them; andCaracalla himself would have rejoiced in the answer, for he aimed not atbeing attractive or admired, but only at being feared. But, indeed,they had long since learned that there was nothing too horrible to beexpected of him; and, now that they h
ad seen him, they were of opinionthat his appearance answered to his deeds. It would be hard to picturea more sinister and menacing looking man than this emperor, with hisaverted looks and his haughty contempt for the world and mankind; andyet there was something about him which made it difficult to takehim seriously, especially to an Alexandrian. There was a touch ofthe grotesque in the Gallic robe with a red hood in which thisominous-looking contemner of humanity was wrapped. It was called a'Caracalla', and it was from this garment that Bassianus Antoninus hadgained his nickname.
The tyrant who wore this gaudy cloak was, no doubt, devoid alike oftruth and conscience; but, as to his being a philosopher, who knew theworthlessness of earthly things and turned his back upon the world,those who could might believe it! He was no more than an actor, whoplayed the part of Timon not amiss, and who made use of his public towork upon their fears and enjoy the sight of their anguish. There wassomething lacking in him to make one of those thorough-going haters oftheir kind at whose mere aspect every knee must bend. The appearance, inshort, of this false philosopher was not calculated to subdue the rashtongues of the Alexandrians.
To this many of them agreed; still, there was no time for suchreflections till the dust had shrouded the chariot, which vanished asquickly as it had come, till the shouting was stilled, and the crowdhad spread over the roadway again. Then they began to ask themselves whythey had joined in the acclamations, and had been so wildly excited; howit was that they had so promptly surrendered their self-possessionand dignity for the sake of this wicked little man. Perhaps it was hisunlimited control over the weal and woe of the world, over the lifeand death of millions, which raised a mortal, not otherwise formed forgreatness, so far above common humanity to a semblance of divinity.Perhaps it was the instinctive craving to take part in the grandimpulsive expression of thousands of others that had carried away eachindividual. It was beyond a doubt a mysterious force which had compelledevery one to do as his neighbors did as soon as Caesar had appeared.
Melissa had succumbed with the rest; she had shouted and waved herkerchief, and had not heeded Andreas when he held her hand and asked herto consider what a criminal this man was whom she so eagerly hailed. Itwas not till all was still again that she recollected herself, and herdetermination to get the famous physician to visit her lover revived inrenewed strength.
Fully resolved to dare all, she looked about with calm scrutiny,considering the ways and means of achieving her purpose without any aidfrom Andreas. She was in a fever of impatience, and longed to force herway at once into the Serapeum. But that was out of the question, forno one moved from his place. There was, however, plenty to be seen. Acomplete revulsion of feeling had come over the crowd. In the place ofExpectancy, its graceless step-child, Disappointment, held sway. Therewere no more shouts of joy; men's lungs were no longer strained to theutmost, but their tongues were all the busier. Caesar was for the mostpart spoken of with contempt as Tarautas, and with the bitterness--thegrandchild of Expectancy-which comes of disappointment. Tarautas hadoriginally been the name of a stunted but particularly bloodthirstygladiator, in whom ill-will had traced some resemblance to Caesar.
The more remarkable figures in the imperial train were curiously gazedat and discussed. A worker in mosaic, who stood near Melissa, had beenemployed in the decoration of the baths of Caracalla at Rome, and hadmuch information to impart; he even knew the names of several of thesenators and courtiers attached to Caesar. And, with all this, time wasfound to give vent to discontent.
The town had done its utmost to make itself fine enough to receive theemperor. Statues had been erected of himself, of his father, his mother,and even of his favorite heroes, above all of Alexander the Great;triumphal arches without number had been constructed. The vast hallsof the Serapeum, through which he was to pass, had been magnificentlydecorated; and in front of the new temple, outside the Kanopic Gate,dedicated to his father, who now ranked among the gods, the elders ofthe town had been received by Caesar, to do him homage and offer him thegifts of the city. All this had cost many talents, a whole heap of gold;but Alexandria was wealthy, and ready to make even greater sacrifices ifonly they had been accepted with thanks and condescension. But a youngactor, who had been a spectator of the scene at the Kanopic Gate, andhad then hurried hither, declared, with dramatic indignation, thatCaesar had only replied in a few surly words to the address of thesenate, and even while he accepted the gift had looked as if he werebeing ill-used. The delegates had retired as though they had beencondemned to death. To none but Timotheus, the high-priest of Serapis,had he spoken graciously.
Others confirmed this report; and dissatisfaction found expression inmuttered abuse or satirical remarks and bitter witticisms.
"Why did he drive past so quickly?" asked a tailor's wife; and some onereplied:
"Because the Eumenides, who haunt him for murdering his brother, lashhim on with their whips of snakes!"
A spice-merchant; who was not less indignant but more cautious, hearinga neighbor inquire why Tarautas drove panther-spotted horses, repliedthat such beasts of prey had spotted skins, and that like to like wasa common rule. A cynical philosopher, who proclaimed his sect by hisragged garment, unkempt hair, and rough mode of speech, declared thatCaesar had a senator to guide his chariot because he had long sincesucceeded in turning the senate-house into a stable.
To all this, however, Melissa turned a deaf ear, for the thought of thegreat Roman leech possessed her mind entirely. She listened earnestlyto the mosaic-worker, who had come close up to her, and officiouslymentioned the names of the most important personages as they went past.Caesar's train seemed endless. It included not merely horse andfoot soldiers, but numberless baggage-wagons, cars, elephants--whichCaracalla especially affected, because Alexander the Great had beenfond of these huge beasts--horses, mules, and asses, loaded with bales,cases, tents, and camp and kitchen furniture. Mingling with thesecame sutlers, attendants, pages, heralds, musicians, and slaves of theimperial household, in knots and parties, looking boldly about them atthe bystanders. When they caught sight of a young and pretty woman onthe edge of the path, they would wave a greeting; and many expressedtheir admiration of Melissa in a very insolent manner. Woolly-headednegroes and swarthy natives of north Africa mixed with the fairerdwellers on the Mediterranean and the yellow or red haired sons ofnorthern Europe. Roman lictors, and Scythian, Thracian, or Kelticmen-at-arms kept every one out of the way who did not belong to theimperial train, with relentless determination. Only the Magians,wonder-workers, and street wenches were suffered to push their way inamong the horses, asses, elephants, dogs, vehicles, and mounted troops.
Each time that one of the unwieldy traveling-carriages, drawn by severalhorses, came in sight, in which the wealthy Roman was wont to take hisease on a long journey, or whenever a particularly splendid litter wasborne past, Melissa asked the mosaic-worker for information. In somefew instances Andreas could satisfy her curiosity, for he had spent somemonths at Antioch on a matter of business, and had there come to know bysight some of Caesar's most illustrious companions.
So far the great Galenus was not of the number; for Caracalla, who wasailing, had but lately commanded his presence. The famous physician hadsailed for Pelusium, in spite of his advanced age, and had only justjoined the sovereign's suite. The old man's chariot had been pointedout to the mosaic-worker at the Kanopic Gate, and he was certain thathe could not mistake it for any other; it was one of the largest andhandsomest; the side doors of it were decorated with the AEsculapiusstaff and the cup of Hygeia in silver, and on the top were statuettes inwood of Minerva and of AEsculapius. On hearing all this, Melissa's facebeamed with happy and hopeful anticipation. With one hand pressed toher throbbing bosom, she watched each vehicle as it drove past with suchintense expectancy that she paid no heed to Andreas's hint that theymight now be able to make their way through the crowd.
Now--and the freedman had called her once more--here was anothermonstrous conveyance, belonging to Julius Paulinus, the former
consul,whose keen face, with its bright, merry eyes, looked out between thesilken curtains by the side of the grave, unsympathetic countenance ofDion Cassius the senator and historian.
The consul, her informant told her--and Andreas confirmed thestatement--had displeased Severus, Caracalla's father, by some bitingjest, but, on being threatened with death, disarmed his wrath by saying,"You can indeed have my head cut off, but neither you nor I can keep itsteady."
Those of the populace who stood near enough to the speaker to hear thisanecdote broke out in loud cheers, in which they were joined by otherswho had no idea of what had given rise to them.
The consul's chariot was followed by a crowd of clients, domesticofficials, and slaves, in litters, on horses or mules, or on foot; andbehind these again came another vehicle, for some time concealed fromsight by dust. But when at last the ten fine horses which drew it hadgone past Melissa, and the top of the vehicle became visible, the colormounted to her cheeks, for on the corners of the front she recognizedthe figures of AEsculapius and Minerva, which, if the mosaic-worker wereright, distinguished the chariot of Galenus. She listened breathlesslyto the roll of the wheels of this coach, and she soon perceived thesilver AEsculapius staff and bowl on the wide door of this house onwheels, which was painted blue. At an open window by the door a kindlyold face was visible, framed in long, gray hair.
Melissa started at hearing the order to halt shouted from the Serapeum,far down the road, and again, close at hand, "Halt!" The procession cameto a standstill, the riders drew rein, the blue wheels ceased to turn,the coach was immovable but a few steps in front of her, and her eyesmet those of the old man. The thought flashed through her brain thatFate itself had brought about this pause just at this spot; and when sheheard the mosaic-worker exclaim, "The great Roman physician!" horses,coach, and everything swam before her eyes; she snatched her hand awayfrom that of Andreas, and stepped out on the roadway. In an instant shewas standing face to face with the venerable leech.
She heard the warning voice of her companion, she saw the crowd staringat her, she had, no doubt, a brief struggle with her maidenly shyness,but she carried out her purpose. The thought that the gods themselveswere helping her to appeal to the only man who could save her lover,encouraged her to defy every obstacle.
She was standing by the vehicle; and scarcely had she raised her sweet,innocent, blushing face with pathetic and touching entreaty to thewhite-haired Roman, her large, tear-filled eyes meeting his, when hebeckoned her to him, and in pleasant, sympathetic tones desired to knowwhat she wanted. Then she made bold to ask whether he were the greatRoman physician, and he replied with a flattered and kindly smile thathe was sometimes so called. Her thankful glance to heaven revealed whata comfort his words were, and now her rosy lips moved freely, and shehurriedly, but with growing courage, gave him to understand that herbetrothed, the son of a respected Roman citizen of Alexandria, waslying badly wounded in the head by a stone, and that the leech who wastreating him had said that none but he, the great Galenus, could savethe young man's life. She also explained that Ptolemaeus, though he hadsaid that Diodoros needed quiet above all things, had proposed to carryhim to the Serapeum, and to commend him there to the care of his greatercolleague, but that she feared the worst results from the move. Sheglanced pleadingly into the Roman's eyes, and added that he looked sokind that she hoped that he would go instead to see the sufferer, whohad, quite by chance, been taken into a Christian house not very farfrom the Serapeum, where he was being taken good care of, and--as amatter of course--cure her lover.
The old man had only interrupted her tale with a few sly questions asto her love-affair and her religion; for when she had told him thatDiodoros was under the care of Christians, it had occurred to him thatthis simply but not poorly dressed girl, with her modest ways and sweet,calm face, might herself be a Christian. He was almost surprised whenshe denied it, and yet he seemed pleased, and promised to grant herrequest. It was not fitting that a girl so young should enter any housewhere Caesar and his train took up their abode; he would wait for her,"there"--and he pointed to a small, round temple to Aphrodite, onthe left-hand side of the street of Hermes, where the road was ratherwider--for the coach had meanwhile slowly moved on.
Next day, at three hours after the rising of the fierce African sun--forhe could not bear its meridian heat--he would go thither in his litter."And be sure you are there in good time!" he added, shaking his fingerat her.
"If you come an hour too soon, you will find me waiting!" she cried.
He laughed, and said, "What pretty maid, indeed, would dare to be latefor an appointment under the very eyes of the goddess of Love!" He badeher a friendly farewell, and lay back in the chariot.
Melissa, radiant with happiness, looked about her for the place whereshe had left her companion. However, in spite of the lictors, Andreashad followed her; he drew her hand under his arm, and led her throughthe now-thinning crowd into a sidelane which led to the lake, openingout of the colonnaded street opposite the little temple.
Melissa's steps were winged. Her joy at having gained her end so quicklyand so easily was uppermost in her mind, and as they threaded their wayamong the people she tried to tell Andreas what the great physician hadpromised. But the noise drowned her speech, for at this moment Caesar'stame lion, named the "Sword of Persia" was being led through the streetby some Numidian slaves.
Every one was looking at the splendid beast; and, as she too turned togaze, her eye met the ardent glance of a tall, bearded man standing atthe window of a house just behind the round temple to Aphrodite. She atonce recognized Serapion, the Magian, and whispered his name to Andreas;he, however, without looking round, only drew her along more quickly,and did not breathe easily till they found themselves in the narrow,deserted alley.
The Magian had observed her while she stood by the Roman's chariot, andhis conversation with a Syrian of middle age in his company had beenof her. His companion's appearance was as insignificant as his own wasstately and commanding. Nothing distinguished the Syrian from a thousandof his fellows but the cunning stamped on his sharply-cut features;still, the great Magian seemed to hold him in some esteem, for hereadily replied to the little man's questions and remarks.
At this moment the Syrian waved his hand in the air with a gesturecommon to men of his race when displaying their own superior knowledge,as he said "What did I spend ten years in Rome for, if I do not knowSerenus Samonicus? He is the greatest book-collector in the empire. Andhe regards himself as a second AEsculapius, and has written a book onmedicine in verse, which Geta, Caesar's murdered brother, always hadabout him, for he regarded the physicians here as mere bunglers. He isas rich as the Alabarch, and riding in his coach is Galenus, for whomCaesar sent. What can that girl want of him?"
"H'm!" muttered the other, stroking his beard with thoughtful dignity."She is a modest maiden; it can only be something urgent and importantwhich has prompted her to address the Roman."
"Your Castor will be able to find out," replied the Syrian Annianus."That omniscient rascal can get through a key-hole, and by to-morrowwill be the best friend of the Roman's people, if you care to know."
"We will see," said Serapion. "Her brother, perhaps, to-morrow evening,will tell me what is going on."
"The philosopher?" said the other, with a contemptuous flourish. "Youare a great sage, Serapion, as the people hold; but you often sew withneedles too fine for me. Why, just now, when Caesar is here, andgain and honor be in the streets for such a one as you only to stoopfor--why, I say, you should waste precious time on that poring fellowfrom the Museum, I can not understand."
A superior smile parted the Magian's lips; he stepped back into theroom, followed by Annianus, and replied:
"You know how many who call themselves Magians will crowd round Caesar,and the fame of Sosibius, Hananja, and Kaimis, is not much behind mine.Each plies his art by his own formulas, though he may call himself aPythagorean or what not. None dare claim to belong to any recognizedschool, since
the philosophers of the guild pride themselves oncondemning the miracle-mongers. Now, in his youth, Caracalla wentthrough his courses of philosophy. He detests Aristotle, and has alwaysattached himself to Plato and the Pythagoreans. You yourself told methat by his desire Philostratus is writing a life of Apollonius ofTyana; and, though he may turn up his nose at the hair-splitting andfrittering of the sages of the Museum, it is in his blood to lookfor marvels from those privileged philosophers. His mother has madecourtiers of them again; and he, who looks for everything from the magicarts, has never yet met a Magian who could have been one of them."
At this the Syrian clapped his hands, exclaiming: "And you propose touse Philip as your signbearer to talk to the emperor of a thaumaturgistwho is hand in hand with all the learning of the Museum? A cursed goodidea! But the gem-cutter's son does not look like a simpleton; and he isa skeptic into the bargain, and believes in nothing. If you catch him, Ishall really and truly believe in your miraculous powers."
"There are harder things than catching him," said the Magian.
"You mean to break his will," said the Syrian, looking down at theground, "by your eye and the laying on of hands, as you did mine andTriphis's two years ago?"
"That, no doubt, formed the first bond between us," said Serapion. "Inow need only your ventriloquism. Philip himself will come half-way tomeet me on the main point."
"And what is that?"
"You called him a skeptic, and he does, in fact, pride himself on goingfurther than the old masters of the school. Diligent study has broughthim to the point of regarding nothing as certain, but, on the otherhand, everything as possible. The last result he can arrive at is theprobability--since certainty there is none--that it is impossible everto know anything, be it what it may. He is always ready to listen withsympathetic attention to the arguments for the reappearance of the soulsof the dead in the earthly form they have quitted, to visit and conversewith the living. He considers it a fallacy to say that anything isimpossible; and my arguments are substantial. Korinna will appear tohim. Castor has discovered a girl who is her very image. Your arts willconvince him that it is she who speaks to him, for he never heard hervoice in life, and all this must rouse his desire to see her againand again. And thus the skeptic will be convinced, in spite of his owndoctrine. In this, as in every other case, it is the passionate wishthat gives rise to the belief."
"And when you have succeeded in getting him to this point?" asked theSyrian, anxiously.
"Then," replied the Magian, "he will help me, with his triumphantdialectics, to win Caesar over to the same conviction; and then we shallbe able to satisfy the emperor's desire to hold intercourse with thedead; and for that I count on your power of making voices proceed fromany person present."
He said no more. The little man looked up at him approvingly, and said,modestly: "You are indeed wise, Serapion, and I will do my best to helpyou. The next thing to be done is to seek representatives of thegreat Alexander, of Apollonius of Tyana, and of Caesar's brother,father-in-law, and wife."
"Not forgetting Papinian, the noblest of his victims," added the Magian."Back again already, Castor?"
These words were addressed to a tall and apparently elderly man in along white robe, who had slipped in without a sound. His demeanor wasso grave and dignified that he looked precisely like a Christian priestimpressed with the sanctity of his office; but hardly had he got intothe room, and greeted the Magian with much unction, than he pulled thewhite garment off over his head, rubbed from his cheeks the lines whichgave him twenty added years, stretched his lithe limbs, and exclaimedwith delight:
"I have got her! Old Dorothea will bring her to your theatre!"--and theyoung fellow's mobile face beamed with the happy radiance of success.
It almost seemed as though fermenting wine flowed in the man's veinsinstead of blood; for, when he had made his report to the Magian, andhad been rewarded with a handful of gold-pieces, he tossed the coinsin the air, caught them like flies in the hollow of his hand, and thenpitched wheel fashion over head and heels from one end of the roomto the other. Then, when he stood on his feet once more, he went on,without a sign of breathlessness:
"Forgive me, my lord! Nature asserts her rights. To play the pious forthree whole hours! Eternal gods, that is a hard task, and a man must--"
"I know all about it," Serapion broke in with a smile and a threateningfinger. "Now go and stretch your limbs, and then share your lightlyearned gains with some pretty flute-player. But I want you again thisevening; so, if you feel weak, I shall lock you up."
"Do," said Castor, as earnestly as if he had been promised somepleasure. "What a merry, good-for-nothing set they are!-Dorothea willbring the girl at the appointed hour. Everything is arranged."
Whereupon he danced out of the room, singing a tune.
"An invaluable creature!" said the Syrian, with an admiring glance.
"A better one spoiled," said Serapion. "He has the very highest gifts,but is utterly devoid of conscience to set a limit to his excesses.How should he have one? His father was one of a troupe of Ephesianpantomimists, and his mother a golden-haired Cyprian dancer. But heknows every corner of Alexandria--and then, what a memory! What an actorhe would have made! Without even a change of dress, merely by a grimace,he at once becomes an old man, an idiot, or a philosopher."
"And what a genius for intrigue!" Annianus went on enthusiastically."As soon as he saw the portrait of Korinna he knew that he had seen herdouble among the Christians on the other side of the lake. This morninghe tracked her out, and now she is caught in the snare. And how sharp ofhim to make Dorothea bring her here!"
"I told him to do that, and use the name of Bishop Demetrius," observedthe Magian. "She would not have come with a stranger, and Dorothea mustbe known to her in the meetings of their congregation."