Melissa, who had already spoken in favor of the emperor, agreed, in spite of the matron, with her brother.  Yes, Caracalla had sinned greatly, and his conviction that Alexander’s soul lived in him and Roxana’s in her was foolish enough; but the marvelous likeness to her of the portrait on the gem would astonish any one.  That good and noble impulses stirred his soul she was certain.  But Berenike only shrugged her shoulders contemptuously; and when the chief priest remarked that yesterday evening Caracalla had in fact not been in a position to attend a feast, and that a portion, at least, of his other offenses might certainly be put down to the charge of his severe suffering, the lady exclaimed: 

“And is it also his bodily condition that causes him to fill a house of mourning with festive uproar?  I am indifferent as to what makes him a malefactor.  For my part, I would sooner abandon this dear child to the care of a criminal than to that of a madman.”

But the chief priest and the brother and sister both declared Caesar’s mind to be as sound and sharp as any one’s; and Timotheus asked who, at the present time, was without superstition, and the desire of communicating with departed souls.  Still the matron would not allow herself to be persuaded, and after the chief priest had been called away to the service of the god, Euryale reproved her sister-in-law for her too great zeal.  When the wisdom of hoary old age and impetuous youth agree in one opinion, it is commonly the right one.

“And I maintain,” cried Berenike—­and her large eyes flamed angrily—­“it is criminal to ignore my advice.  Fate has robbed you as well as me of a dear child.  I will not also lose this one, who is as precious to me as a daughter.”

Melissa bent over the lady’s hands and kissed them gratefully, exclaiming with tearful eyes, “But he has been very good to me, and has assured me-”

“Assured!” repeated Berenike disdainfully.  She then drew the young girl impetuously toward her, kissed her on her forehead, placed her hands on her head as if to protect her, and turned to the artist as she continued: 

“I stand by what I recommended before.  This very night Melissa must get far away from here.  You, Alexander, must accompany her.  My own ship, the ’Berenike and Korinna’—­Seleukus gave it to me and my daughter—­is ready to start.  My sister lives in Carthage.  Her husband, the first man in the city, is my friend.  You will find protection and shelter in their house.”

“And how about our father and Philip?” interrupted Alexander.  “If we follow your advice, it is certain death to them!”

The matron laughed scornfully.

“And that is what you expect from this good, this great and noble sovereign!”

“He proves himself full of favors to his friends,” answered Alexander, “but woe betide those who offend him!”

Berenike looked thoughtfully at the ground, and added, more quietly: