y on her lips, while, as if taken out of herself, she gazed with
panting bosom into the empty air. They had not long to wait. Suddenly the
maiden approached Philostratus and said with a firmness and decision that
astonished her friend:

"This will I do--this--I feel it here--this is the right. I remain, I
renounce the love of my heart, and accept what Fate has laid upon me. It
will be hard, and the sacrifice that I offer is great. But I must first
have the certainty that it shall not be in vain."

"But, child," cried Philostratus, "who can look into the future, and
answer for what is still to come?"

"Who?" asked Melissa, undaunted. "He alone in whose hand lies my future.
To Caesar himself I leave the decision. Go you to him now and speak for
me. Bring him greeting from me, and tell him that I, whom he honors with
his love, dare to entreat him modestly but earnestly not to punish the
aged Claudius Vindex and his nephew for the fault they were guilty of on
my account. For my sake would he deign to grant them life--and liberty?
Add to this that it is the first proof I have asked of his magnanimity,
and clothe it all in such winning words as Peitho can lay upon your
eloquent lips. If he grants pardon to these unfortunate ones, it shall be
a sign to me that I may be permitted to shield others from his wrath. If
he refuses, and they are put to death, then will he himself have decided
our fate otherwise, and he sees me for the last time alive in the Circus.
Thus shall it be--I have spoken."

The last words came like a stern order, and Philostratus seemed to have
some hopes of the emperor's clemency, for his love's sake, and the
philosopher's own eloquence. The moment Melissa ceased, he seized her
hand and cried, eagerly:

"I will try it; and, if he grant your request, you remain?"

"Yes," answered the maiden, firmly. "Pray Caesar to have mercy, soften
his heart as much as you are able. I expect an answer before going to the
Circus."

She hurried back into the sleeping-room without regarding Philostratus's
answer. Once there, she threw herself upon her knees and prayed, now to
the manes of her mother, now--it was for the first time--to the crucified
Saviour of the Christians, who had taken upon himself a painful death to
bring happiness to others. First she prayed for strength to keep her vow,
come what might; and then she prayed for Diodoros, that he might not be
made wretched if she found herself compelled to break he