it, the subjects of this mighty kingdom would be saved from
great tribulations!"

"But, my lord," Melissa broke in, "who would ask such lofty things of
a 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 and then pale; "but Caesar can not surely be so narrow-minded as to
punish a whole great city for what the poor daughter of a gem-cutter has
done."

"You are thinking of my Achilles," answered the philosopher. "But I only
transferred what I saw of good in Caracalla to the figure of my hero.
Besides, you know that Caesar is not himself when he is in wrath. Has
not experience taught me that no reasons are strong enough to convince a
loving woman's heart? Once more I entreat you, stay here! Reject not the
splendid gift which the gods offer you, that trouble may not come upon
your city as it did on hapless Troy, all for a woman's sake.

"What says the proverb? 'Zeus hearkens not to lovers' vows'; but I say
that to renounce