“Then he will forget me!” replied Melissa, with a sigh of relief.

“Hardly,” answered the philosopher.  He was sorry for the terrified girl, and in his wish to lighten her woes as far as he could, he said, gravely:  “You called him terrible, and he can be more terrible than any man living.  But he has been kind to you so far, and, if you take my advice, you will always seem to expect nothing from him that is not good and noble.”

“Then I must be a hypocrite,” replied Melissa.  “Only to-day he has murdered the noble Titianus.”

“That is an affair of state which does not concern you,” replied Philostratus.  “Read my description of Achilles.  I represent him among other heroes such as Caracalla might be.  Try, on your part, to see him in that light.  I know that it is sometimes a pleasure to him to justify the good opinion of others.  Encourage your imagination to think the best of him.  I shall tell him that you regard him as magnanimous and noble.”

“No, no!” cried Melissa; “that would make everything worse.”

But the philosopher interrupted her.

“Trust my riper experience.  I know him.  If you let him know your true opinion of him, I will answer for nothing.  My Achilles reveals the good qualities with which he came into the world; and if you look closely you may still find sparks among the ashes.”

He here took his leave, for they had reached the vestibule leading to the high-priest’s lodgings, and a few minutes later Melissa found herself with Euryale, to whom she related all that she had seen and felt.  When she told her older friend what Philostratus had advised, the lady stroked her hair, and said:  “Try to follow the advice of so experienced a man.  It can not be very difficult.  When a woman’s heart has once been attached to a man—­and pity is one of the strongest of human ties—­the bond may be strained and worn, but a few threads must always remain.”

But Melissa hastily broke in: 

“There is not a spider’s thread left which binds me to that cruel man.  The murder of Titianus has snapped them all.”

“Not so,” replied the lady, confidently.  “Pity is the only form of love which even the worst crime can not eradicate from a kind heart.  You prayed for Caesar before you knew him, and that was out of pure human charity.  Exercise now a wider compassion, and reflect that Fate has called you to take care of a hapless creature raving in fever and hard to deal with.  How many Christian women, especially such as call themselves deaconesses, voluntarily assume such duties! and good is good, right is right for all, whether they pray to one God or to several.  If you keep your heart pure, and constantly think of the time which shall be fulfilled for each of us, to our ruin or to our salvation, you will pass unharmed through this great peril.  I know it, I feel it.”

“But you do not know him,” exclaimed Melissa, “and how terrible he can be!  And Diodoros!  When he is well again, if he hears that I am with Caesar, in obedience to his call whenever he sends for me, and if evil tongues tell him dreadful things about me, he, too, will condemn me!”