envious had often done him (Alexander) good, so the sharp satire of the
Alexandrians would lead Caracalla to introspection and greater
moderation; he only resolved to tell the sufferer nothing further that
was merely insulting.

When he bade him farewell, Caracalla glanced up at him with such a look
of pain that the artist longed to give him his hand, and speak to him
with real affection. The tormenting headache which followed each
convulsion had again come on, and Caesar submitted without resistance to
what the physician prescribed.

Alexander asked old Adventus at the door if he did not think that the
terrible attack had been brought on by annoyance at the Alexandrians'
satire, and if it would not be advisable in the future not to allow such
things to reach the emperor's ear; but the man, looking at him in
surprise with his half-blind eyes, replied with a brutal want of sympathy
that disgusted the youth: "Drinking brought on the attack. What makes
him ill are stronger things than words. If you yourself, young man, do
not suffer for Alexandrian wit, it will certainly not hurt Caesar!"

Alexander turned his back indignantly on the chamberlain, and he became
so absorbed in wondering how it was possible that the emperor, who was
cultivated and appreciated what was beautiful, could have dragged out of
the dust and kept near him two such miserable 'creatures as Theocritus
and this old man, that Philostratus, who met him in the next room, had
almost to shout at him.

Philostratus informed him that Melissa was staying with the chief
priest's wife; but just as he was about to inquire curiously what had
passed between the audacious painter and Caesar--for even Philostratus