silently and skillfully
dressed his thin hair. The sovereign sighed deeply, and pressed his hand
to his brow as though in pain. The philosopher ventured to approach him,
and there was warm sympathy in his tone as he asked:

"What ails you, Bassianus? Just now you bore all the appearance of a
healthy, nay, and of a terrible man!"

"It is better again already," replied the sovereign. "And yet--!"

He groaned again, and then confessed that only yesterday he had in the
same way been tortured with pain.

"The attack came on in the morning, as you know," he went on, "and when
it was past I went down into the court of sacrifice; my feet would
scarcely carry me. Curiosity--and they were waiting for me; and some
great sign might be shown! Besides, some excitement helps me through this
torment. But there was nothing--nothing! Heart, lungs, liver, all in
their right place.--And then, Galenus--What I like is bad for me, what I
loathe is wholesome. And again and again the same foolish question, 'Do
you wish to escape an early death?' And all with an air as though Death
were a slave at his command--He can, no doubt, do more than others, and
has preserved his own life I know not how long. Well, and it is his duty
to prolong mine.

"I am Caesar. I had a right to insist on his remaining here. I did so;
for he knows my malady, and describes it as if he felt it himself. I
ordered him--nay, I entreated him. But he adhered to his own way. He
went--he is gone!"

"But he may be of use to you, even at a distance," Philostratus said.

"Did he do anything for my father, or for me in Rome, where he saw me
every day?" retorted Caesar. "He can mitigate and relieve the suffering,
but that is all; and of all the others, is there one fit to hand him a
cup of water? Perhaps he would be willing to cure me, but he can not; for
I tell you, Philostratus, the gods will not have it so. You know what
sacrifices I have offered, what gifts I have brought. I have prayed, I
have abased myself before them, but none will hear. One or another of the
gods, indeed, appears to me not infrequently as Apollo did last night.
But is it because he favors me? First, he laid his hand on my shoulder,
as my father used to do; but his was so heavy, that the weight pressed me
down till I fell on my knees, crushed. This is no good sign, you think? I
see it in your face. I do not myself think so. And how loudly I have
called on him, of all the gods! The whole empire, they sa