“The blue robe I wore at the festival of Adonis, my mother’s diadem, and a large gem with the head of Serapis for my shoulder.  My hair—­oh, a veil will cover it!  What does it matter for an old woman?—­You, child, why do you look at me in such amazement?  What mother would allow a pretty young daughter to appear alone in the Circus?  Besides, I may surely hope that it will confirm your courage to feel that I am at your side.  Perhaps the populace may be moved a little in your favor if the wife of the high-priest of their greatest god is your companion.”

But she could scarcely end her speech, for Melissa had flown into her arms, exclaiming, “And you will do this for me?” while Alexander, deeply touched by gratitude and joy, kissed her thin arm and the hem of her peplos.

While Melissa helped the matron to change her dress—­in the next room Alexander paced to and fro in great unrest.  He knew the Alexandrians, and there was not the slightest doubt but that the presence of this universally revered lady would make them look with kindlier eyes on his sister.  Nothing else could so effectually impress them with the entire propriety of her appearance in the Circus.  The more seriously he had feared that Melissa might be deeply insulted and offended by the rough demonstrations of the mob, the more gratefully did his heart beat; nay, his facile nature saw in this kind act the first smile of returning good fortune.

He only longed to be hopeful once more, to enjoy the present—­as so many philosophers and poets advised—­and especially the show in the Circus, his last pleasure, perhaps; to forget the imminent future.

The old bright look came back to his face; but it soon vanished, for even while he pictured himself in the amphitheatre, he remembered that there, too, his former acquaintances might refuse to speak to him; that the odious names of “Tarautas’ brother-in-law” or of “traitor” might be shouted after him on the road.  A cold chill came over him, and the image of pretty Ino rose up before him—­Ino, who had trusted in his love; and to whom, of all others, he had given cause to accuse him of false-heartedness.  An unpleasant sense came over him of dissatisfaction with himself, such as he, who always regarded self-accusation, repentance, and atonement as a foolish waste of life, had never before experienced.

The fine, sunny autumn day had turned to a sultry, dull evening, and Alexander went to the window to let the sea-breeze fan his dewy brow; but he soon heard voices behind him, for Euryale and Melissa had re-entered the room, followed by the house-steward, who presented to his mistress a sealed tablet which a slave had just brought from Philostratus.  The women had been talking of Melissa’s vow; and Euryale had promised her that, if Fate should decide against Caesar, she would convey the girl to a place of safety, where she could certainly not be discovered, and might look forward in peace to the future.  Then she had impressed on her that, if things should be otherwise ordered, she must endure even the unendurable with patience, as an obedient wife, as empress, but still ever conscious of the solemn and beneficent power she might wield in her new position.