“I Truly I meant well toward you, dearest,” he began, in altered tones.  “But we are both like overfull vessels—­one drop will make them overflow.  You—­confess now that you forgot yourself.  And I—­On the throne we grow unaccustomed to opposition.  It is fortunate that the flame of my anger dies out so quickly.  But it lies with you to prevent it from ever breaking out; for I should always endeavor to fulfill a kindly expressed wish, if it were possible.  This time, however, I must insist—­”

Melissa turned toward the emperor, and stretching out beseeching hands, she cried: 

“Bid me do anything, however hard, and it shall be done, but do not force me to go with you to the Circus.  If my mother were only alive!  Wherever I could go with her was right.  But my father, not to speak of my madcap brother Alexander, do not know what befits a maiden, nor does anybody expect it of them.”

“And rightly,” interposed Caracalla.  “Now I understand your opposition, and thank you for it.  But it fortunately lies in my power to remove your objection.  The women have to obey me, too.  I shall at once issue the necessary orders.  You shall appear in the Circus surrounded by the noblest matrons of the city.  The wives of these citizens shall accompany you.  Even my mother will be sure to approve of this arrangement.  Farewell, then, till we meet again in the Circus!”

He spoke the last words with proud satisfaction, and with the grave demeanor that Cilo had taught him to adopt in the curia.

He then gave the order to admit the Alexandrian citizens, and the words of entreaty died upon the lips of the unfortunate imperial bride, for the folding doors were thrown open and the deputation advanced through them.

Old Adventus signed to Melissa, and with drooping head she followed him through the rooms and corridors that led to the apartments of the highpriest.

CHAPTER XXV.

Melissa had wept her fill on the breast of the lady Euryale, who listened to her woes with motherly sympathy, and yet she felt as if a biting frost had broken and destroyed the blossoms which only yesterday had so richly and hopefully decked her young heart.  Diodoros’s love had been to her like the fair and sunny summer days that turn the sour, hard fruit into sweet and juicy grapes.  And now the frost had nipped them.  The whole future, and everything round her, now looked gray, colorless, and flat.  Only two thoughts held possession of her mind:  on the one hand, that of her betrothed, from whom this visit to the Circus threatened to separate her forever; and on the other, that of her imperial lover, to escape whom she would have flown anywhere, even to the grave.

Euryale remarked with concern how weary and broken Melissa looked—­so different from her usual bright self, while she listened to her father and Alexander as they consulted with the lady as to the future.  Philostratus, who had promised his advice, did not appear; and to the gem-cutter, no proposal could seem so unwelcome as that of leaving his native city and his sick favorite, Philip.