What had come over the poor, suffering youth whom he, Timon, had escorted to the Circus out of sheer compassion?  His eyes sparkled, and he held his head as high as ever.  What was the meaning of his declaring that everything would go well with him now?  But it was in vain that he questioned the youth, for Diodoros could not reveal, even to his best friend, what it was that made him happy.  It was enough for him to know that Melissa loved him, and that the woman to whom he looked up with enthusiastic reverence esteemed her as highly as ever.  And now, for the first time, he began to feel ashamed of his doubts of Melissa.  How could he, who had known her from childhood, have believed of her anything so base and foul?  It must be some strong compulsion which bound her to Caesar, and she could never have looked at him thus unless she had some scheme—­in which, perhaps, the lady Euryale meant to abet her—­for escaping her imperial suitor before it was too late.  Yes, it must be so; and the oftener he gazed at her the more convinced he felt.

Now he rejoiced in the blaze of light about him, for it showed him his beloved.  The words which Euryale had whispered in her ear must have been an admonition to prudence, for she only rarely bestowed on him a loving glance, and he acknowledged that the mute but eager exchange of signals would have been fraught with danger for both of them.

The first sudden illumination had revealed too many things to distract the attention of the spectators, including Caesar’s, for their proceedings to be observed.  Now curiosity was to some extent satisfied, and even Diodoros felt that reserve was imperative.

Caracalla had not yet shown himself to the people.  A golden screen, in which there were holes for him to look through without being seen, hid him from public gaze; still Diodoros could recognize those who were admitted to his presence.  First came the givers of the entertainment; then the Parthian envoys, and some delegates from the municipal authorities of the town.  Finally, Seleukus presented the wives of the magnates who had shared with him the cost of this display, and among these, all magnificently dressed, the lady Berenike shone supreme by the pride of her demeanor and the startling magnificence of her attire.  As her large eyes met those of Caesar with a flash of defiance, he frowned, and remarked satirically: 

“It seems to be the custom here to mourn in much splendor!”

But Berenike promptly replied: 

“It has nothing to do with mourning.  It is in honor of the sovereign who commanded the presence of the mourner at the Circus.”

Diodoros could not see the flame of rage in, Caesar’s threatening eye, nor hear his reply to the audacious matron: 

“This is a misapprehension of how to do me honor, but an opportunity will occur for teaching the Alexandrians better.”

Even across the amphitheatre the youth could see the sudden flush and pallor of the lady’s haughty face; and immediately after, Macrinus, the praetorian prefect, approached Caracalla with the master of the games, the superintendent of the school of gladiators.