“Nay, Caesar,” interrupted the philosopher, “love is not a disease, but rather not loving.”

“Prove this new assertion,” laughed the emperor; and the philosopher rejoined, with a meaning look at the maiden, “If love is born in the eyes, then those who do not love are blind.”

“But,” answered Caracalla, gayly, “they say that love comes not only from what delights the eye, but the soul and the mind as well.”

“And have not the mind and the spirit eyes also?” was the reply, to which the emperor heartily assented.

Then he turned to Melissa, and asked with gentle reproach why she, who had proved herself so ready of wit yesterday, should be so reserved today; but she excused her taciturnity on the score of the violent emotions that had stormed in upon her since the morning.

Her voice broke at the end of this explanation, and Caracalla, concluding that it was the thought of the grandeur that awaited her through his favor which confused her and brought the delicate color to her cheeks, seized her hand, and, obedient to an impulse of his better nature, said: 

“I understand you, child.  Things are befalling you that would make a stouter heart tremble.  You have only heard hints of what must effect such a decisive change in your future life.  You know how I feel toward you.  I acknowledged to you yesterday what you already knew without words.  We both feel the mysterious power that draws us to one another.  We belong to each other.  In the future, neither time nor space nor any other thing may part us.  Where I am there you must be also.  You shall be my equal in every respect.  Every honor paid to me shall be offered to you likewise.  I have shown the malcontents what they have to expect.  The fate which awaits the consul Claudius Vindex and his nephew, who by their want of respect to you offended me, will teach the others to have a care.”

“O my lord, that aged man!” cried Melissa, clasping her hands, imploringly.

“He shall die, and his nephew,” was the inexorable answer.  “During my conference with my mother’s messengers they had the presumption to raise objections against you and the ardent desire of my heart in a manner which came very near to being treason.  And they must suffer for it.”

“You would punish them for my sake?” exclaimed Melissa.  “But I forgive them willingly.  Grant them pardon!  I beg, I entreat you.”

“Impossible!  Unless I make an example, it will be long before the slanderous tongues would hold their peace.  Their sentence stands.”

But Melissa would not be appeased.  With passionate eagerness she entreated the emperor to grant a pardon, but he cut her short with the request not to interfere in matters which he alone had to decide and answer for.