To-day Nemesianus was in the emperor’s anteroom by command, and Apollonaris, of his own freewill, had taken the place of another tribune, that he might bear his brother company.  They had caroused through half the night, and had begun the new day by a visit to the flower market, for love of the pretty saleswomen.  Each had a half-opened rose stuck in between his cuirass and shirt of mail on the left breast, plucked, as the charming Daphnion had assured them, from a bush which had been introduced from Persia only the year before.  The brothers, at any rate, had never seen any like them.

While they were looking out of the window they had passed the time by examining every girl or woman who went by, intending to fling one rose at the first whose perfect beauty should claim it, and the other flower at the second; but during the half-hour none had appeared who was worthy of such a gift.  All the beauties in Alexandria were walking in the streets in the cool hour before sunset, and really there was no lack of handsome girls.  The brothers had even heard that Caesar, who seemed to have renounced the pleasures of love, had yielded to the charms of a lovely Greek.

Directly they saw Melissa they were convinced that they had met the beautiful plaything of the imperial fancy, and each with the same action offered her his rose, as if moved by the same invisible power.

Apollonaris, who had come into the world a little sooner than his brother, and who, by right of birth, had therefore a more audacious manner, stepped boldly up to Melissa and presented his, while Nemesianus at the same instant bowed to her, and begged her to give his the preference.

Though their speeches were flattering and well-worded, Melissa repulsed them by remarking sharply that she did not want their flowers.

“We can easily believe that,” answered Apollonaris, “for are you not yourself a lovely, blooming rose?”

“Vain flattery,” replied Melissa; “and I certainly do not bloom for you.”

“That is both cruel and unjust,” sighed Nemesianus, “for that which you refuse to us poor fellows you grant to another, who can obtain everything that other mortals yearn for.”

“But we,” interrupted his brother, “are modest, nay, and pious warriors.  We had intended offering up these roses to Aphrodite, but lo! the goddess has met us in person.”

“Her image at any rate,” added the other.

“And you should thank the foam-born goddess,” continued Apollonaris; “for she has lent you, in spite of the danger of seeing herself eclipsed, her own divine charms.  Do you think she will be displeased if we withdraw the flowers and offer them to you?”

“I think nothing,” answered Melissa, “excepting that your honeyed remarks annoy me.  Do what you like with your roses, I will not accept them.”

“How dare you,” asked Apollonaris, approaching her—­“you, to whom the mother of love has given such wonderfully fresh lips—­misuse them by refusing so sternly the humble petition of her faithful worshipers?  If you would not have Aphrodite enraged with you, hasten to atone for this transgression.  One kiss, my beauty, for her votary, and she will forgive you.”