tanding
their smallness, and lending a force to his ignoble face which Caracalla
had never noticed before. Had Caesar no premonition that in the last few
hours this man had grown to be such another as himself?--for in his
unyielding mind the firm resolve had been strengthened to hesitate at
nothing--not even at the death of as many as might come between him and
his high aim, the throne.

Macrinus knew enough of human nature to observe the miserable disquietude
that had seized upon the emperor at his bride's continued absence, but he
took good care not to refer to the subject. When Caracalla, however,
could no longer conceal his anxiety, and asked after her himself, the
prefect gave the appointed sign to Epagathos, who then handed Melissa's
freshly re-sealed letter to his master.

"Let me open it, great Caesar," entreated Macrinus. "Even Homer called
Egypt the land of poison."

But the emperor did not heed him. No one had told him, and he had never
in his life received a letter in a woman's hand, except from his mother;
and yet he knew that this delicate little roll had come from a
woman--from Melissa.

It was closed with a silken thread, and the seal with which Epagathos had
replaced the one they had broken. If Caracalla tore it open, the papyrus
and the writing might be damaged. He called impatiently for a knife, and
the body physician, who had just entered with other courtiers, handed him
his.

"Back again?" asked Caracalla as the physician drew the blade from its
sheath.

"At break of day, on somewhat unsteady legs," was the jovial answer.
Caracalla took the knife from him, cut the silk, hastily broke the seal,
and began to read.

Till now his hands had performed their office steadily, but suddenly they
began to tremble, and while he ran his eye over Melissa's refusal--there
were but a few lines-his knees shook, and a sharp, low cry burst from
him, like no sound that lies by nature in the throat of man. Rent in two
pieces, the strip of papyrus fluttered to the ground.

The prefect caught the despot, who, seized with giddiness, stretched out
his hands as if seeking a support. The physician hurriedly brought out
the drug which Galenus had advised him to use in such cases, and which he
always carried with him, and then, pointing to the letter, asked the
prefect:

"In the name of all the gods, from whom?"

"From the gem-cutter's fair daughter," replied Macrinus, with a
contemptuous shrug.

"From her?" cri