the humble, unquestioning instrument of his capricious temper. Into what
a haughty beauty the quiet embroideress had been transformed!

By all the gods! Caracalla had no cause to be ashamed of such an
empress.

And, unaccustomed as he was to keep back anything whatever from his
children, he began to express these sentiments. But he did not get far,
for the hour for the morning meal being just over, the court-yard began
to fill from all sides with officials and servants of the temple. So,
father and son silently followed the maiden through the crowded galleries
and apartments, into the house of the highpriest.

Here they were received by Philostratus, who hardly gave Melissa time to
greet the lady Euryale before he informed her, but with unwonted hurry
and excitement, that the emperor was awaiting her with impatience.

The philosopher motioned to her to follow him, but she clung, as if
seeking help, to her brother, and cried: "I will not go again to
Caracalla! You are the kindest and best of them all, Philostratus, and
you will understand me. Evil will come of it if I follow you--I can not
go again to Caesar."

But it was impossible for the courtier to yield to her, in the face of
his monarch's direct commands; therefore, hard as it was to him, he said,
resolutely: "I well understand what holds you back; still, if you would
not ruin yourself and your family, you must submit. Besides which, you
know not what Caesar is about to offer you-fortunate, unhappy child!"

"I know--oh, I know it!" sobbed Melissa; "but it is just that . . .