When, therefore, somewhat later, she was alone with the chief priest’s wife, who had concluded her comforting, pious exhortations, Melissa asked the lady Euryale whether she had ever heard the sentence, “When the fullness of the time is come.”

At this the lady cried, gazing at the girl with surprised inquiry: 

“Are you, then, after all, connected with the Christians?”

“Certainly not,” answered the young girl, firmly.  “I heard it accidentally, and Andreas, Polybius’s freedman, explained it to me.”

“A good interpreter,” replied the elder lady.  “I am only an ignorant woman; yet, child, even I have experienced that a day, an hour, comes to every man in the course of his life in which he afterward sees that the time was fulfilled.  As the drops become mingled with the stream, so at that moment the things we have done and thought unite to carry us on a new current, either to salvation or perdition.  Any moment may bring the crisis; for that reason the Christians are right when they call on one another to watch.  You also must keep your eyes open.  When the time—­who knows how soon?—­is fulfilled for you, it will determine the good or evil of your whole life.”

“An inward voice tells me that also,” answered Melissa, pressing her hands on her panting bosom.  “Just feel how my heart beats!”

Euryale, smiling, complied with this wish, and as she did so she shuddered.  How pure and lovable was this young creature; and Melissa looked to her like a lamb that stood ready to hasten trustfully to meet the wolf!

At last she led her guest into the room where supper was prepared.

The master of the house would not be able to share it, and while the two women sat opposite one another, saying little, and scarcely touching either food or drink, Philostratus was announced.

He came as messenger from Caracalla, who wished to speak to Melissa.

“At this hour?  Never, never!  It is impossible!” exclaimed Euryale, who was usually so calm; but Philostratus declared, nevertheless, that denial was useless.  The emperor was suffering particularly severely, and begged to remind Melissa of her promise to serve him gladly if he required her.  Her presence, he assured Euryale, would do the sick man good, and he guaranteed that, so long as Caesar was tormented by this unbearable pain, the young woman had nothing to fear.

Melissa, who had risen from her seat when the philosopher had entered, exclaimed: 

“I am not afraid, and will go with you gladly—­”

“Quite right, child,” answered Philostratus, affectionately.  Euryale, however, found it difficult to keep back her tears while she stroked the girl’s hair and arranged the folds of her garment.  When at last she said good-by to Melissa and was embracing her, she was reminded of the farewell she had taken, many years ago, of a Christian friend before she was led away by the lictors to martyrdom in the circus.  Finally, she whispered something in the philosopher’s ear, and received from him the promise to return with Melissa as soon as possible.