dants of the Macedonians, with whom the greatest of
heroes conquered the world! Who was that fat old fellow who shrank into
himself so miserably, and made for the door while I was yet speaking?"

"Kimon, the chief of the night-watch and guardian of the peace of the
city," replied the high-priest of Alexander, who as a Roman had kept his
place by the throne; and Theocritus put in:

"The people must sleep badly under the ward of such a coward. Let him
follow the prefect, noble Caesar."

"Send him his dismissal at once," said Caracalla; "but see that his
successor is a man."

He then turned to the high-priest, and politely requested him to assist
Theocritus in choosing a new head for the town-guard, and Timotheus and
the favorite quitted the room together.

Philostratus took ingenious advantage of the incident, by at once
informing the emperor that it had come to his knowledge that this coward,
so worthily dismissed from office, had, on the merest suspicion, cast
into prison a painter who was undoubtedly one of the first of living
artists, and with him his guiltless relations.

"I will not have it!" Caesar broke out. "Nothing but blood will do any
good here, and petty aggravations will only stir their bile and increase
their insolence. Is the painter of whom you speak an Alexandrian?--I pine
for the open air, but the wind blows the rain against the windows."

"In the field," the philosopher remarked, "you have faced the weather
heroically enough. Here, in the city, enjoy what is placed before you.
Only yesterday I still believed that the art of Apelles was utterly
degenerate. But since then I have changed my opinion, for I have seen a
portrait which would be an ornament to the Pinakothek in your baths. The
northern windows are closed, or, in this land of inundations, and in such
weather as this, we might find ourselves afloat even under cover of a
roof; so it is too dark here to judge of a painting, but your
dressing-room is more favorably situated, and the large window there will
serve our purpose. May I be allowed the pleasure of showing you there the
work of the imprisoned artist?"

Caesar nodded, and led the way, accompanied by his lion and followed by
the philosopher, who desired an attendant to bring in the picture.

In this room it was much lighter than in the audience-chamber, and while
Caracalla awaited, with Philostratus, the arrival of the painting, his
Indian body-slave, a gift from the Parthian king,