“Always the same thing,” answered Caracalla, peevishly.  “Do you know of nothing better to wish for?”

“No, my lord, no!” cried Melissa, with importunate warmth.  “If you will give me what I most care for—­”

“I will, yes, I will,” interrupted the emperor in a softer voice; but suddenly shrugging his shoulders, he continued, regretfully:  “But you must have patience; for, by the Egyptian’s orders, your people have been for some time afloat and at sea.”

“No!” the girl assured him.  “They are still here.  Zminis has shamefully deceived you;” and then she informed him of what she had learned from her brother.

Caracalla, in obedience to a softer impulse, had wished to show himself grateful to Melissa.  But her demand displeased him; for the sculptor and his son, the philosopher, were the security that should keep Melissa and the painter attached to him.  But though his distrust was so strong, offended dignity and the tormenting sense of being deceived caused him to forget everything else; he flew into a rage, and called loudly the names of Epagathos and Adventus.

His voice, quavering with fury, awakened the others also out of their sleep; and after he had shortly and severely rebuked them for their laziness, he commissioned Epagathos to give the prefect, Macrinus, immediate orders not to allow the ship on which Heron and Philip were, to leave the harbor; to set the captives at liberty; and to throw Zminis, the Egyptian, into prison, heavily chained.

When the freedman remarked, humbly, that the prefect was not likely to be found, as he had purposed to be present again that night at the exorcisms of the magician, Serapion, Caesar commanded that Macrinus should be called away from the miracle-monger’s house, and the orders given him.

“And if I can not find him?” asked Epagathos.

“Then, once more, events will prove how badly I am served,” answered the emperor.  “In any case you can act the prefect, and see that my orders are carried out.”

The freedman left hastily, and Caracalla sank back exhausted on the pillows.

Melissa let him rest a little while; then she approached him, thanked him profusely, and begged him to keep quiet, lest the pain should return and spoil the approaching day.

He then asked the time, and when Philostratus, who had walked to the window, explained that the fifth hour after midnight was past, Caracalla bade him prepare a bath.

The physician sanctioned this wish, and Caesar then gave his hand to the girl, saying, feebly and in a gentle voice:  “The pain still keeps away.  I should be better if I could moderate my impatience.  An early bath often does me good after a bad night.  Only go.  The sleep that you know so well how to give to others, you scarcely allow to visit you.  I only beg that you will be at hand.  We shall both, I think, feel strengthened when next I call you.”