“Alexander!” cried Melissa, clasping her hands and turning pale with horror.  But Caracalla laughed to himself, and went on cheerfully: 

“Yes, it is dangerous work, no doubt; and for that reason I pledged my word as Caesar not to require him to pay for the sins of others.  On the contrary, he is free, if the posy he culls for me is sufficient.”

“Ay,” said Alexander, on whom his sister’s white face and warning looks were having effect.  “But you made me another promise on which I lay great stress.  You will not compel me to tell you, nor try to discover through any other man, who may have spoken or written any particular satire.”

“Enough!” said Caracalla, impatiently; but Alexander was not to be checked.  He went on vehemently:  “I have not forgotten that you said conditions were not to be made with Caesar; but, in spite of my impotence, I maintain the right of returning to my prison and there awaiting my doom, unless you once more assure me, in this girl’s presence, that you will neither inquire as to the names of the authors of any gibes I may happen to have heard, nor compel me by any means whatever to give up the names of the writers of epigrams.  Why should I not satisfy your curiosity and your relish of a sharp jest?  But rather than do the smallest thing which might savor of treachery—­ten times rather the axe or the gallows!”

And Caracalla replied with a dark frown, loudly and briefly: 

“I promise.”

“And if your rage is too much for you?” wailed Melissa, raising her hands in entreaty; but the despot replied, sternly: 

“There is no passion which can betray Caesar into perjury.”

At this moment Philostratus came in again, with Epagathos, who announced the praetorian prefect.  Melissa, encouraged by the presence of her kind protector, went on: 

But, great Caesar, you will release my father and my other brother?”

“Perhaps,” replied Caracalla.  “First we will see how this one carries out his task.”

“You will be satisfied, my lord,” said the young man, looking quite happy again, for he was delighted at the prospect of saying audacious things to the face of the tyrant whom all were bent on flattering, and holding up the mirror to him without, as he firmly believed, bringing any danger on himself or others.

He bowed to go.  Melissa did the same, saying, as airily as though she were free to come and go here: 

“Accept my thanks, great Caesar.  Oh, how fervently will I pray for you all my life, if only you show mercy to my father and brothers!”

“That means that you are leaving me?” asked Caracalla.

“How can it be otherwise?” said Melissa, timidly.  “I am but a girl, and the men whom you expect—­”

“But when they are gone?” Caesar insisted.

“Even then you can not want me,” she murmured.

“You mean,” said Caracalla, bitterly, “that you are afraid to come back.  You mean that you would rather keep out of the way of the man you prayed for, so long as he is well.  And if the pain which first aroused your sympathy attacks him again, even then will you leave the irascible sovereign to himself or the care of the gods?”