“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.”

Here Apollonaris stretched out his hand toward the girl to draw her to him, but she motioned him back indignantly, declaring that it would be reprehensible and cowardly in a soldier to use violence toward a modest maid.

At this the two brothers laughed heartily, and Nemesianus exclaimed, “You do not belong to the Temple of Vesta, most lovely of roses, and yet you are well protected by such sharp thorns that it requires a great deal of courage to venture to attack you.”

“More,” added Apollonaris, “than to storm a fortress.  But what camp or stronghold contains booty so well worth capturing?”

Thereupon he threw his arm round Melissa and drew her to him.

Neither he nor his brother had ever conducted themselves badly towards an honorable woman; and if Melissa had been but the daughter of a simple craftsman, her reproachful remarks would have sufficed to keep them at a distance.  But such immunity was not to be granted to the emperor’s sweetheart, who could so audaciously reject two brothers accustomed to easy conquests; her demure severity could hardly be meant seriously.  Apollonaris therefore took no notice of her violent resistance, but held her hands forcibly, and, though he could not succeed in kissing her for her struggling, he pressed his lips to her cheek, while she endeavored to free herself and pushed him off, breathless with real indignation.

’Till now, the brothers had taken the matter as a joke; but when Apollonaris seized the girl again, and she, beside herself with fear, cried for help, he at once set her free.

It was too late; for the curtains of the audience-room were already withdrawn, and Caracalla approached.  His countenance was red and distorted; he trembled with rage, and his angry glance fell like a flash of lightning on the luckless brothers.  Close by his side was the prefect Macrinus, who feared lest he should be attacked by a fresh fit; and Melissa shared his fears, as Caracalla cried to Apollonaris in an angry voice, “Scoundrel that you are, you shall repent of this!”