“But you are so dreadful in your wrath!” The words broke from her lips.  “Where others blame, you can destroy; and you do it, too, when passion carries you away.  I am bound to obey your call, and here I am.  But I fancy myself like the little dog—­you may see him any day—­which in the beast-garden of the Panaeum, shares a cage with a royal tiger.  The huge brute puts up with a great deal from his small companion, but woe betide the dog if the tiger once pats him with his heavy, murderous paw—­and he might, out of sheer forgetfulness!”

“But this hand,” Caesar broke in, raising his delicate hand covered with rings, “will never forget, any more than my heart, how much it owes to you.”

“Until I, in some unforeseen way—­perhaps quite unconsciously—­excite your anger,” sighed Melissa.  “Then you will be carried away by passion, and I shall share the common fate.”

Caracalla was about to reply indignantly, but just then Adventus entered the room, announcing the chief astrologer of the Temple of Serapis.  Caracalla refused to receive him just then, but he anxiously asked whether he had any signs to report.  The reply was in the affirmative, and in a few minutes Caesar had in his hand a wax tablet covered with words and figures.  He studied it eagerly, and his countenance cleared; still holding the tablets, he exclaimed to Melissa: 

“You, daughter of Heron, have nothing to fear from me, you of all the world!  In some quiet hour I will explain to you how my planet yearns to yours, and yours—­that is, yourself—­to mine.  The gods have created us for each other, child; I am already under your influence, but your heart still hesitates, and I know why; it is because you distrust me.”

Melissa raised her large eyes to his face in astonishment, and he went on, pensively: 

“The past must stand; it is like a scar which no water will wash out.  What have you not heard of my past?  What did they feel, in their self-conscious virtue, when they talked of my crimes?  Did it ever occur to any one, I wonder, that with the purple I assumed the sword, to protect my empire and throne?  And when I have used the blade, how eagerly have fingers pointed at me, how gladly slanderous tongues have wagged!  Who has ever thought of asking what compulsion led me to shed blood, or how much it cost me to do it?  You, fair child—­and the stars confirm it—­you were sent by fate to share the burden that oppresses me, and to you I will ease my heart, to you I will confide all, unasked, because my heart prompts me to do so.  But first you must tell me with what tales they taught you to hate the man to whom, as you yourself confessed, you nevertheless felt drawn.”

At this Melissa raised her hands in entreaty and remonstrance, and Caesar went on: