on learn to scorn this tribe of beggars who come
whining round us. If I flew in a passion just now, it was partly your
fault. I had a right to expect that you would be more eager to hear me
out than to shorten the time of waiting for these miserable merchants."

With this his voice grew rough again, but as she raised her eyes to him
and cried beseechingly, "O, my lord!" he continued, more gently:

"There was not much more to be said. You shall be mine. Should the stars
confirm their first revelations, I shall raise you to-morrow to my side,
here in the city of Alexandria, and make the people do homage to you as
their empress. The priest of Alexandria is ready to conduct the marriage
ceremonial. Philostratus will inform my mother of my determination."

Melissa had listened to these arrangements with growing distress; her
breath came fast, and she was incapable of uttering a word; but Caesar
was delighted at the lovely confusion painted on her features, and
cried, in joyful excitement:

"How I have looked forward to this moment--and I have succeeded in
surprising her! This is what makes imperial power divine; by one wave of
the hand it can raise the lowest to the highest place!"

With this he drew Melissa toward him, kissed the trembling girl upon the
brow, and continued, in delighted tones:

"Time does not stand still, and only a few hours separate us from the
accomplishment of our desires. Let us lend them wings. We resolved
yesterday to show one another what we could do as singers and
lute-players. There lies my lyre--give it me, Philostratus. I know what
I shall begin with."

The philosopher brought and tuned the instrument; but Melissa had some
difficulty in keeping back her tears. Caracalla's kiss burned like a
brand of infamy on her brow. A nameless, torturing restlessness had come
over her, and she wished she could dash the lyre to the ground, when
Caracalla began to play, and called out to Philostratus:

"As you are leaving us to-morrow, I will sing the song which you honored
with a place in your heroic tale."

He turned to Melissa, and, as she owned to having read the work of the
philosopher, he went on "You know, then, that I was the model for his
Achilles. The departed spirit of the hero is enjoying in the island of
Leuke, in the Pontus, the rest which he so richly deserves, after a
life full of heroic deeds. Now he finds time to sing to the lyre, and
Philostratus put the following verses--but they ar