“And yet,” said Philostratus, “you offered a sacrifice for the foreign tyrant.”

“Because his pain excited my compassion,” rejoined Melissa, blushing.

“And would you have done the same for any masterless black slave, covered with pitiably deep wounds?” asked the philosopher.

“No,” she answered, quickly; “him I would have helped with my own hand.  When I can do without their aid, I do not appeal to the gods.  And then—­I said before, his trouble seemed doubly great because it contrasted so sharply with all the splendor and joy that surrounded him.”

“Aye,” said the philosopher, earnestly, “and a small thing that affects the ruler recoils tenfold—­a thousand-fold-on his subjects.  Look at one tree through a cut glass with many facets, and it be comes a forest.  Thus the merest trifle, when it affects the emperor, becomes important for the millions over whom he rules.  Caracalla’s vexation entails evil on thousands—­his anger is death and ruin.  I fear me, girl, your flight will bring down heavy misfortune on those who surround Caesar, and first of all upon the Alexandrians, to whom you belong, and against whom he already bears a grudge.  You once said your native city was dear to you.”

“So it is,” returned Melissa, who, at his last words had grown first red and then pale; “but Caesar can not surely be so narrow-minded as to punish a whole great city for what the poor daughter of a gem-cutter has done.”

“You are thinking of my Achilles,” answered the philosopher.  “But I only transferred what I saw of good in Caracalla to the figure of my hero.  Besides, you know that Caesar is not himself when he is in wrath.  Has not experience taught me that no reasons are strong enough to convince a loving woman’s heart?  Once more I entreat you, stay here!  Reject not the splendid gift which the gods offer you, that trouble may not come upon your city as it did on hapless Troy, all for a woman’s sake.

“What says the proverb?  ‘Zeus hearkens not to lovers’ vows’; but I say that to renounce love in order to make others happy, is greater and harder than to hold fast to it when it is menaced.”

These words reminded her of many a lesson of Andreas, and went to her heart.  In her mind’s eye she saw Caracalla, after hearing of her flight, set his lions on Philostratus, and then, foaming with rage, give orders to drag her father and brothers, Polybius and his son, to the place of execution, like Titianus.  And Philostratus perceived what was going on in her mind, and with the exhortation, “Remember how many persons’ weal or woe lies in your hands!” he rose and began a conversation with the Thracian commander of the Germanic guard.