Johanna. Perhaps for her, too, the time was already fulfilled, when she
had taken courage to defy the emperor's commands.

She rejoiced at this action, for she felt that the strength would never
fail her now to set her will against his. She felt as though she bore a
charm against his power since she had parted from her lover, and since
the murder of the governor had opened her eyes to the true character of
him on whom she had all too willingly expended her pity. And yet she
shuddered at the thought of meeting the emperor again, and of having to
show him that she felt safe with him because she trusted to his
generosity.

Lost in deep thought, she waited for the return of the lady and the
Christian waiting-woman, but in vain. At last her eye fell upon the
scrolls which the lady Berenike had pointed out to her. They lay in
beautiful alabaster caskets on an ebony stand. If they had only been
the writings of the Christians, telling of the life and death of their
Saviour! But how should writings such as those come here? The casket
only held the works of Philostratus, and she took from it the roll
containing the story of the hero of whom he had himself spoken to her.
Full of curiosity, she smoothed out the papyrus with the ivory stick, and
her attention was soon engaged by the lively conversation between the
vintner and his Phoenician guest. She passed rapidly over the beginning,
but soon reached the part of which Philostratus had told her. Under the
form of Achilles he had striven to represent Caracalla as he appeared to
the author's indulgent imagination. But it was no true portrait; it
described the original at most as his mother would have wished him to be.
There it was written that the vehemence flashing from the hero's bright
eyes, even when peacefully inclined, showed how easily his wrath could
break forth. But to those who loved him he was even more endearing