obliged to beg her to consider her sixty years and moderate
her pace.

Melissa willingly checked her steps; and when, at the end of the street
of Hermes, they reached the temple of the god from whom it was named
and turned off to the right, the good woman parted from her, for in this
quiet neighborhood she could safely be trusted to take care of herself.

Melissa was now alone. On her left lay the gardens of Hermes, where, on
the southern side, stood her father's house and that of their neighbor
Skopas. Though the old nurse had indeed talked of nothing that was not
pleasant, it was a comfort not to have to listen to her, but to be free
to follow her own thoughts. Nor did she meet with anything to distract
them, for at this hour the great public garden was left almost entirely
to children and their attendants, or to the inhabitants of the immediate
neighborhood who frequented the temples of Hermes or Artemis, or the
little shrine of Asklepios, which stood in a grove of mimosas on the
skirt of the park, and to which Melissa herself felt attracted. It had
been a familiar spot at the time when her mother was at the worst. How
often had she flown hither from her home near at hand to pour oil on
the altar of the god of healing--to make some small offering and find
comfort in prayer!

The day was now hot, she was tired, and, when she saw the white marble
columns gleaming among the greenery, she yielded to the impulse to enjoy
a few minutes' rest in the cool cella and accomplish the vow she had
taken an hour or two since. She longed, indeed, to get home, that her
father might share the happiness which uplifted her heart; but then she
reflected that she would not soon have the opportunity of carrying out,
unobserved, the purpose she had in her mind. Now, if ever, was the time
to offer sacrifice for Caesar and for the mitigation of his sufferings.
The thought that Galenus perhaps was right, and that of Caracalla's
myriad subjects she might be the only one who would do so much for his
sake, strengthened her resolve.

The chief temple of Asklepios, whom the Egyptians called Imhotep, was
at the Serapeum. Imhotep was the son of Ptah, who, at Alexandria, was
merged in Serapis. There he was worshiped, conjointly with Serapis and
Isis, by Egyptians, Greeks, and Syrians alike. The little sanctuary
near her father's house was the resort of none but Greeks. Ptolemaeus
Philadelphus, the second Macedonian King of Egypt, had built it as a