ship after the galley.

This had been done, and comforted, though sadly disappointed, they
started on their way home.

The sun in the mean time had risen, and the streets were filling with
people.

They met the old sculptor Lysander, who had been a friend of their
father's, outside the magnificent pile of buildings of the Caesareum. The
old man took a deep interest in Heron's fate; and, when Alexander asked
him modestly what he was doing at that early hour, he pointed to the
interior of the building, where the statues of the emperors and empresses
stood in a wide circle surrounding a large court-yard, and invited them
to come in with him. He had not been able to complete his work--a marble
statue of Julia Domna, Caracalla's mother--before the arrival of the
emperor. It had been placed here yesterday evening. He had come to see
how it looked in its new position.

Melissa had often seen the portrait of Julia on coins and in various
pictures, but to-day she was far more strongly attracted than she had
ever been before to look in the face of the mother of the man who had so
powerfully influenced her own existence and that of her people.

The old master had seen Julia many years ago in her own home at Emesa, as
the daughter of Bassianus the high-priest of the Sun in that town; and
later, after she had become empress, he had been commanded to take her
portrait for her husband, Septimus Severus. While Melissa gazed on the
countenance of the beautiful statue, the old artist related how
Caracalla's mother had in her youth won all hearts by her wealth of
intellect, and the extraordinary knowledge which she had easily acquired
and continually added to, through intercourse with learned men. They
learned from him that his heart had not remained undisturbed by the
charms of his royal model, and Melissa became more and more absorbed in
her contemplation of this beautiful work of art.

Lysander had represented the imperial widow standing in flowing
draperies, which fell to her feet. She held her charming, youthful head
bent slightly on one side, and her right hand held aside the veil which
covered the back of her head and fell lightly on her shoulders, a little
open over the throat. Her face looked out from under it as if she were
listening to a fine song or an interesting speech. Her thick, slightly
waving hair framed the lovely oval of her face under the veil, and
Alexander agreed with his sister when she expressed the wish th