The whole effect was magical and bewildering; but, as she followed her guide, Melissa only felt that she was in the midst of a new world, such as she might perhaps have seen in a dream; till, as they passed the fountain, the cool drops sprinkled her face.

Then she suddenly remembered what had brought her hither.  In a minute she must appear as a supplicant in the presence of Korinna’s mother—­ perhaps even in that of Caesar himself—­and the fate of all dear to her depended on her demeanor.  The sense of fulfilling a serious duty was uppermost in her mind.  She drew herself up, and replaced a stray lock of hair; and her heart beat almost to bursting as she saw a number of, men standing on the platform at the top of the steps, round a lady who had just risen from her ivory seat.  Giving her hand to a Roman senator, distinguished by the purple edge to his toga, she descended the steps, and advanced to meet Melissa.

This dignified matron, who was awaiting the ruler of the world and yet could condescend to come forward to meet a humble artist’s daughter, was taller by half a head than her illustrious companion; and the few minutes during which Berenike was coming toward her were enough to fill Melissa with thankfulness, confidence, and admiration.  And even in that short time, as she gazed at the magnificent dress of blue brocade shot with gold and sparkling with precious stones which draped the lady’s majestic figure, she thought how keen a pang it must cost the mother, so lately bereft of her only child, to maintain a kindly, nay, a genial aspect, in the midst of this display, toward Caesar and a troop of noisy guests.

The sincerest pity for this woman, rich and preeminent as she was, filled the soul of the girl, who herself was so much to be pitied.  But when the lady had come up to her, and asked, in her deep voice, what was the danger that threatened her brother, Melissa, with unembarrassed grace, and although it was the first time she had ever addressed a lady of such high degree, answered simply, with a full sense of the business in hand: 

“My name is Melissa; I am the sister of Alexander the painter.  I know it is overbold to venture into your presence just now, when you have so much else to think of; but I saw no other way of saving my brother’s life, which is in peril.”

At this Berenike seemed surprised.  She turned to her companion, who was her sister’s husband, and the first Egyptian who had been admitted to the Roman Senate, and said, in a tone of gentle reproach: 

“Did not I say so, Coeranus?  Nothing but the most urgent need would have brought Alexander’s sister to speak with me at such an hour.”

And the senator, whose black eyes had rested with pleasure on Melissa’s rare beauty, promptly replied, “And if she had come for the veriest trifle she would be no less welcome to me.”

“Let me hear no more of such speeches,” Berenike exclaimed with some annoyance.—­“Now, my child, be quick.  What about your brother?”