to Philostratus, and stormed out:

"Woe to you if you lie to me! You want to get the brother out of prison,
and then, by chance, you come across the sister who is praying for me! A
fable to cheat a child with!"

"I am speaking the truth," replied Philostratus, coolly, though the
rapid winking of Caesar's eyelids warned him that his blood was boiling
with wrath.

"It was from the sister, whom I overheard in the temple, that I learned
of her brother's peril, and I afterward saw that portrait."

Caracalla stared at the floor for a moment in silence; then he looked
up, and said, in a tone husky with agitation:

"I only long for anything which may bring me nearer to the perverse race
over whom I rule, be it what it may. You offer it me. You are the
only man who never asked me for anything. I have believed you to be as
righteous as all other men are not. And now if you, if this time--"

He lowered his tones, which had become somewhat threatening, and went
on very earnestly: "By all you hold most sacred on earth, I ask you, Did
the girl pray for me, and of her own free impulse, not knowing that any
one could hear her?"

"I swear it, by the head of my mother!" replied Philostratus, solemnly.

"Your mother?" echoed Caesar, and his brow began to clear. But suddenly
the gleam of satisfaction, which for a moment had embellished his
features, vanished, and with a sharp laugh he added: "And my mother! Do
you suppose that I do not know what she requires of you? It is solely
to please her that you, a free man, remain with me. For her sake you are
bold enough to try now and then to quell the stormy sea of my passions.
You do it with a grace, so I submit. And now my hand is raised to
strike a wretch who mocks at me; he is a painter, of some talent, so,
of course, you take him under your protection. Then, in a moment,
your inventive genius devises a praying sister. Well, there is in that
something which might indeed mollify me. But you would betray Bassianus
ten times over to save an artist. And then, how my mother would fly
to show her gratitude to the man who could quell her furious son! Your
mother!--But I only squint when it suits me. My eye must become dimmer
than it yet is before I fail to see the connection of ideas which led
you to swear by your mother. You were thinking of mine when you spoke.
To please her, you would deceive her son. But as soon as he touches the
lie it vanishes into thin air, for it has no more substan