Philip struck his brow, and, with a helpless fall of the mouth, which was usually so firmly set and ready to sneer, he exclaimed, like a boy caught in mischief:  “That, that—­I can not imagine how I forgot it, but I did not mention it.  What strange absence of mind!  But I can remedy it at once on the spot.  Argutis—­nay, I will go myself.”

He sprang up, and was on the point of carrying out his sudden purpose, but Melissa detained him.  With a decisiveness which again amazed him, she desired him to remain; and while he paced the workroom with rapid strides, heaping abuse on himself, now striking his breast, and now pushing his fingers through his disordered hair, she made it clear to him that he could not reach Alexander in time to prevent his knowing all, and that the only result of his visit would be to put the watch on the track.  Instead of raving and lamenting, he would do better to tell her whither he had been.

First, he hastily began, he had gone to the prefect Titianus, who was an elderly man of a noble family, many of whose members had ere now occupied the official residence of the prefect in Alexandria, and in other towns of Egypt.  He had often met Philip at the disputations he was wont to attend in the Museum, and had a great regard for him.  But of late Titianus had been out of health, and had kept his house.  He had undergone some serious operation shortly before Caesar’s arrival at Alexandria had been announced, and this had made it impossible for him to be present at the grand reception, or even to pay his respects to Caracalla.

When Philip had sent in his name, Titianus had been very ready to receive him; but while the philosopher was still waiting in the anteroom, wondering to find it so empty—­for it was usually crowded with the clients, petitioners, and friends of the most important man in the province—­a bustle had arisen behind him, and a tall man had been ushered in past him, whom he recognized as the senator on whose arm Caracalla had leaned in the morning.  This was the actor, whom the priest of Serapis had pointed out to Melissa as one of Caesar’s most powerful favorites.  From being a mere dancer he had risen in the course of a few years to the highest dignities.  His name was Theocritus, and although he was distinguished by great personal beauty and exceptional cleverness, his unbridled greed had made him hated, and he had proved equally incompetent as a statesman and a general.

As this man marched through the anteroom, he had glanced haughtily about him, and the look of contempt which fell on the philosopher probably reflected on the small number of persons present, for at that hour the anterooms of Romans of rank were commonly thronged.  Most visitors had been dismissed, by reason of the prefect’s illness, and many of the acquaintances and supplicants who were generally to be found here were assembled in the imperial quarters, or in the rooms of the praetorian prefect and other powerful dignitaries in Caracalla’s train.  Titianus had failed to be present at the emperor’s arrival, and keen courtier noses smelled a fall, and judged it wise to keep out of the way of a tottering power.