which, like a poisonous blight, had marred for him all the joys of
existence, while she owed all that was loveliest and best in her
young life to a brother's love.

The grounds on which Caracalla had based the assertion that destiny had
compelled him to murder Geta appeared to her young and inexperienced mind
as indisputable. He was only the pitiable victim of his birth and of a
cruel fate. Besides, the humblest and most sober-minded can not resist
the charm of majesty; and this hapless man, who had honored Melissa with
his confidence, and who had assured her so earnestly that she was of such
importance to him and could do so much for him, was the ruler of the
universe.

She had also felt, after Caesar's confession, that she had a right to be
proud, since he had thought her worthy to take an interest in the tragedy
in the imperial palace, as if she had been a member of the court. In her
lively imagination she had witnessed the ghastly act to which he--as she
had certainly believed, even when she had replied to his question--had
been forced by fate.

But the demand which had followed her answer now recurred to her. The
picture of Diodoros, which had completely vanished from her thoughts
while she had been listening, suddenly appeared to her, and, as she
fancied, he looked at her reproachfully.

Had she, then, transgressed against her betrothed?

No, no, indeed she had not!

She loved him, and only him; and for that very reason, her upright