grounded in fact--was seconded by the less
disinterested hope that, while attending on the sufferer, she might find
an opportunity of effecting the release of her father and brother.

Philostratus went on to announce her arrival, and she, while waiting,
tried to pray to the manes of her mother; but, before she could
sufficiently collect her thoughts, the door opened. Philostratus silently
beckoned to her, and she stepped into the tablinum, which was but dimly
lighted by a few lamps.

Caracalla was still resting here; for every movement increased the pain
that tormented him.

How quiet it was! She thought she could hear her own heart beating.

Philostratus remained standing by the door, but she went on tiptoe toward
the couch, fearing her light footsteps might disturb the emperor. Yet
before she had reached the divan she stopped still, and then she heard
the plaintive rattle in the sufferer's throat, and from the background of
the room the easy breathing of the burly physician and of old Adventus,
both of whom had fallen asleep; and then a peculiar tapping. The lion
beat the floor with his tail with pleasure at recognizing her.

This noise attracted the invalid's attention, and when he opened his
closed eyes and saw Melissa, who was anxiously watching all his
movements, he called to her lightly with his hand on his brow:

"The animal has a good memory, and greets you in my name. You were sure
to come--, I knew it!"

The young girl stepped nearer to him, and answered, kindly, "Since you
needed me, I gladly followed Philostratus."

"Because I needed you?" asked the emperor.

"Yes," she replied, "because you require nursing."

"Then, to keep you, I shall wish to be ill often," he answered, quickly;
but he added, sadly, "only not so dreadfully ill as I have been to-day."

One could hear how laborious talking was to him, and the few words he had
sought and found, in order to say something kind to Melissa, had so hurt
his shattered nerves and head that he sank back, gasping, on the
cushions.

Then for some time all was quiet, until Caracalla took his hand from his
forehead and continued, as if in excuse:

"No one seems to know what it is. And if I talk ever so softly, every
word vibrates through my brain."

"Then you must not speak," interrupted Melissa, eagerly. "If you want
anything, only make signs. I shall understand you without words, and the
quieter it is here the better."

"No, no; you must speak," be