“Nevertheless, you should, after so serious an attack—­” the physician in ordinary ventured to exhort him; but he interrupted him scornfully, and, glancing toward Melissa, exclaimed: 

“Those little hands there contain more healing power than yours and the great Galenus’s put together.”

Thereupon he beckoned to the young girl, and when she once more besought his permission to go, he left the room with the commanding cry, “You are to wait!”

He had rather far to go and some steps to mount in order to reach the balcony which ran round the base of the cupola of the Pantheon which his father had joined to the Serapeum, yet he undertook this willingly, as thence he could best be seen and heard.

A few hours earlier it would have been impossible for him to reach this point, and Epagathos had arranged that a sedan-chair and strong bearers should be waiting at the foot of the steps; but he refused it, for he felt entirely restored, and the shouts of his warriors intoxicated him like sparkling wine.

Meanwhile Melissa remained behind in the audience-chamber.  She must obey Caesar’s command.  Yet it frightened her; and, besides, she was woman enough to feel it as an offense that the man who had assured her so sincerely of his gratitude, and who even feigned to love her, should have refused so harshly her desire to rest.  She foresaw that, as long as he remained in Alexandria, she would have to be his constant companion.  She trembled at the idea; yet, if she tried to fly from him, all she loved would be lost.  No, this must not be thought of!  She must remain.

She threw herself on a divan, lost in thought, and as she realized the confidence of which the unapproachable, proud emperor had thought her worthy, a secret voice whispered to her that it was certainly a delightful thing to share the overwhelming agitations of the highest and greatest.  And was he then really bad, he who felt the necessity of vindicating himself before a simple girl, and to whom it appeared so intolerable to be misjudged and condemned even by her?  Besides being the emperor and a suffering man, Caracalla had also become her wooer.  It never once entered her mind to accept him; but still it flattered her extremely that the greatest of men should declare his love for her.  Why, then, need she fear him?  She was so important to him, she could do so much for him, that he would surely take care not to insult or offend her.  This modest child, who till quite lately had trembled before her own father’s temper, now, in the consciousness of Caesar’s favor, felt herself strong to triumph over the wrath and passions of the most powerful and most terrible of men.  In the mean time she dared not risk confessing to him that she was another’s bride, for that might determine him to let Diodoros feel his power.  The thought that the emperor could care about her good opinion greatly pleased her; it even had the effect of raising the hope in her inexperienced mind that Caracalla would moderate his passion for her sake—­when old Adventus came into the room.