Adventus was about to put on his master's shoulders, remarking, as he did
so, that he had weathered worse storms in the field.

Melissa thanked him with a blush, and, going close up to her, he
whispered: "To-morrow, if Fate grants us gracious answers to the
questions I shall put to her presently after this storm--tomorrow the
horn of happiness will be filled to overflowing for you and me. The
thrifty goddess promises to be lavish to me through you."

Slaves were standing round with lighted lanterns; for the torches in the
theatre were all extinguished, and the darkened auditorium lay like an
extinct crater, in which a crowd of indistinguishable figures were moving
to and fro. It reminded him of Hades and a troop of descending spirits;
but he would not allow anything but what was pleasant to occupy his mind
or eye. By a sudden impulse he took a lantern from one of the
attendants, held it up above Melissa's head, and gazed long and earnestly
into her brightly illuminated face. Then he dropped his hand with a sigh
and said, as though speaking in a dream: "Yes, this is life! Now I begin
to live."

He lifted the dripping laurel crown from his head, tossed it into the
arena, and added to Melissa: "Now, get under shelter at once, sweetheart.
I have been able to see you this whole evening, even when the lamps were
out; for lightning gives light. Thus even the storm has brought me joy.
Sleep well. I shall expect you early, as soon as I have bathed."

Melissa wished him sound slumbers, and he replied, lightly:

"If only all life were a dream, and if to-morrow I might but wake up, no
longer the son of Severus, but Alexander; and you, not Melissa, but