hose glorious eyes;
how living the waving hair, as though it still breathed of the scented
oil! And when Philostratus explained that though Alexander had no doubt
spoken some rash and treasonable words, he could not in any case be the
author of the insulting verses which had been found at the Serapeum with
the rope, Caracalla echoed his praises of the picture, and desired to
see both the painter and his sister.

That morning, as he rose from his bed, he had been informed that the
planets which had been seen during the past night from the observatory
of the Serapeum, promised him fortune and happiness in the immediate
future. He was himself a practiced star-reader, and the chief astrologer
of the temple had pointed out to him how peculiarly favorable the
constellation was whence he had deduced his prediction. Then, Phoebus
Apollo had appeared to him in a dream; the auguries from the
morning's sacrifices had all been favorable; and, before he dispatched
Philostratus to fetch Melissa, he added:

"It is strange! The best fortune has always come to me from a gloomy
sky. How brightly the sun shone on my marriage with the odious
Plautilla! It has rained, on the contrary, on almost all my victories;
and it was under a heavy storm that the oracle assured me the soul of
Alexander the Great had selected this tortured frame in which to live
out his too early ended years on earth. Can such coincidence be mere
chance? Phoebus Apollo, your favorite divinity--and that, too, of the
sage of Tyana--may perhaps have been angry with me. He who purified
himself from blood-guiltiness after killing the Python is the god of
expiation. I will address myself to him, like the noble hero of your
book. This morning the god visited me again; so I will have such
sacrifice slain before him as never yet was offered. Will that satisfy
you, O philosopher hard to be appeased?"

"More than satisfy me, my Bassianus," replied Philostratus. "Yet
remember that, according to Apollonius, the sacrifice is effective only
through the spirit in which it is offered."

"Always a 'but' and an 'if'!" exclaimed Caracalla, as his friend left
the room to call Melissa from the high-priest's quarters, where she was
waiting.

For the first time for some days Caesar found himself alone. Leading
the lion by the collar, he went to the window. The rain had ceased, but
black clouds still covered the heavens. Below him lay the opening of the
street of Hermes into the great squ