e
before long.

Down below all was quiet. Macrinus, the praetorian prefect, on hearing
that the emperor had fallen into a refreshing sleep, in order that he
might not be disturbed, had forbidden all loud signals, and ordered the
camp to be closed to all the inhabitants of the city; so the girl heard
nothing but the regular footsteps of the sentries and the shrieks of the
owls returning to their nests in the roof of the Serapeum. The wind from
the sea drove the clouds before it across the sky, and the plain covered
with tents resembled a sea tossed into high white waves. The camp had
been reduced during the afternoon; for Caracalla had carried out his
threat of that morning by quartering a portion of the picked troops in
the houses of the richest Alexandrians.

Melissa, bending far out, looked toward the north. The sea-breeze blew
her hair into her face. Perhaps on the ocean whence it came the high
waves would, in a few hours, be tossing the ship on which her father and
brother, seated at the oar, would be toiling as disgraced galley-slaves.
That must not, could not be!

Hark! what was that?

She heard a light whisper. In spite of strict orders, a loving couple
were passing below. The wife of the centurion Martialis, who had been
separated for some time from her husband, had at his entreaty come
secretly from Ranopus, where she had charge of Seleukus's villa, to see
him, as his services prevented his going so far away. They now stood
whispering and making love in the shadow of the temple. Melissa could not
hear what they said, yet it reminded her of the sacred night hour when
she confessed her love to Diodoros. She felt as if she were standing by
his bedside, and his faithful eyes met hers. She would not, for all that
was best in the world, have awakened him yesterday at the Christian's
house, though the awakening would have brought her fresh promises of
love; and yet she was on the point of robbing another of his only cure,
the sleep the gods had sent him. But then she loved Diodoros, and what
was Caesar to her? It had been a matter of life and death with her lover,
while disturbing Caracalla would only postpone his recovery a few hours
at the utmost. It was she who had procured the imperial sleeper his rest,
which she could certainly restore to him even if she now woke him. Just
now she had vowed for the future not to care about her own welfare, and
that had at first made her doubtful about Caracalla; but had it no