“No, no!” cried Melissa; “that would make everything worse.”

But the philosopher interrupted her.

“Trust my riper experience.  I know him.  If you let him know your true opinion of him, I will answer for nothing.  My Achilles reveals the good qualities with which he came into the world; and if you look closely you may still find sparks among the ashes.”

He here took his leave, for they had reached the vestibule leading to the high-priest’s lodgings, and a few minutes later Melissa found herself with Euryale, to whom she related all that she had seen and felt.  When she told her older friend what Philostratus had advised, the lady stroked her hair, and said:  “Try to follow the advice of so experienced a man.  It can not be very difficult.  When a woman’s heart has once been attached to a man—­and pity is one of the strongest of human ties—­the bond may be strained and worn, but a few threads must always remain.”

But Melissa hastily broke in: 

“There is not a spider’s thread left which binds me to that cruel man.  The murder of Titianus has snapped them all.”

“Not so,” replied the lady, confidently.  “Pity is the only form of love which even the worst crime can not eradicate from a kind heart.  You prayed for Caesar before you knew him, and that was out of pure human charity.  Exercise now a wider compassion, and reflect that Fate has called you to take care of a hapless creature raving in fever and hard to deal with.  How many Christian women, especially such as call themselves deaconesses, voluntarily assume such duties! and good is good, right is right for all, whether they pray to one God or to several.  If you keep your heart pure, and constantly think of the time which shall be fulfilled for each of us, to our ruin or to our salvation, you will pass unharmed through this great peril.  I know it, I feel it.”

“But you do not know him,” exclaimed Melissa, “and how terrible he can be!  And Diodoros!  When he is well again, if he hears that I am with Caesar, in obedience to his call whenever he sends for me, and if evil tongues tell him dreadful things about me, he, too, will condemn me!”

“No, no,” the matron declared, kissing her brow and eyes.  “If he loves you truly, he will trust you.”

“He loves me,” sobbed Melissa; “but, even if he does not desert me when I am thus branded, his father will come between us.”

“God forbid!” cried Euryale.  “Remain what you are, and I will always be the same to you, come what may; and those who love you will not refuse to listen to an old woman who has grown gray in honor.”

And Melissa believed her motherly, kind, worthy friend; and, with the new confidence which revived in her, her longing for her lover began to stir irresistibly.  She wanted a fond glance from the eyes of the youth who loved her, and to whom, for another man’s sake, she could not give all his due, nay, who had perhaps a right to complain of her.  This she frankly confessed, and the matron herself conducted the impatient girl to see Diodoros.