lowly maiden? My mother taught me to be kind and helpful to others in
the house, to my friends, and fellow-citizens; my own heart tells me to
be faithful to my betrothed. But I care not greatly for the Romans, and
what to me are Gauls, Dacians, or whatever else these barbarians may be
called?"

"And yet," said Philostratus, "you offered a sacrifice for the foreign
tyrant."

"Because his pain excited my compassion," rejoined Melissa, blushing.

"And would you have done the same for any masterless black slave, covered
with pitiably deep wounds?" asked the philosopher.

"No," she answered, quickly; "him I would have helped with my own hand.
When I can do without their aid, I do not appeal to the gods. And then--
I said before, his trouble seemed doubly great because it contrasted so
sharply with all the splendor and joy that surrounded him."

"Aye," said the philosopher, earnestly, "and a small thing that affects
the ruler recoils tenfold--a thousand-fold-on his subjects. Look at one
tree through a cut glass with many facets, and it be comes a forest.
Thus the merest trifle, when it affects the emperor, becomes important
for the millions over whom he rules. Caracalla's vexation entails evil
on thousands--his anger is death and ruin. I fear me, girl, your flight
will bring down heavy misfortune on those who surround Caesar, and first
of all upon the Alexandrians, to whom you belong, and against whom he
already bears a grudge. You once said your native city was dear to you."

"So it is," returned Melissa, who, at his last words had grown first red