The reply was in the negative; and as Caracalla exclaimed, “So much the better!” a significant smile played on his lips.

The high-priest of Serapis had looked on in much distress of mind.  He, as the head of the Museum, had set high hopes on the youth who had come to such a terrible end.  If Caesar should carry his threats into execution, there would be an end to that celebrated home of learning which, in his opinion, bore such noble fruits of study.  And what could Caracalla mean by his dark saying that the sport and mockery of those youths below was their last meal?  The worst might indeed be expected from the fearful tyrant who was at once so deeply wounded and so grievously offended; and the high-priest had already sent messengers—­Greeks of good credit—­to warn the insurgent youths in the stadium.  But, as the chief minister of the divinity, he also esteemed it his duty, at any risk to himself, to warn the despot, whom he saw on the verge of being carried away to deeds of unparalleled horror.  He thought the time had come, when Caracalla looked up from the brooding reverie into which he had again sunk, and with an ominous scowl asked Timotheus whether his wife, under whose protection Melissa had been seen the day before, had known that the false-hearted girl had given herself to another man while she feigned love for him.

The high-priest repelled the suspicion with his usual dignity, and went on to adjure Caesar not to visit on an industrious and dutiful community the sins of a light-minded girl’s base folly and falsehood.

But Caracalla would not suffer him to finish; he wrathfully inquired who had given him a right to force his advice on Caesar.

On this Timotheus replied, with calm dignity: 

“Your own noble words, great Caesar, when, to your honor be it spoken, you reminded the misguided skeptic of the true meaning of the old gods and of what is due to them.  The god whom I serve, great Caesar, is second to none:  the heavens are his head, the ocean is his body, and the earth his feet; the sunshine is the light of his all-seeing eye, and everything which stirs in the heart or brain of man is an emanation of his divine spirit.  Thus he is the all-pervading soul of the universe, and a portion of that soul dwells in you, in me, in all of us.  His power is greater than any power on earth, and, though a well-grounded wrath and only too just indignation urge you to exert the power lent you by him—­”

“And I will exert it!” Caesar exclaimed with haughty rage.  “It reaches far.  I need no help, not even that of your god!”

“That I know,” replied Timotheus.  “And the god will let those fall into your hands who have sinned against your sacred majesty.  Any punishment, even the severest, will be pleasing in his sight which you may inflict on those guilty of high-treason, for you wear the purple as his gift and in his name; those who insult you sin also against the god.  I myself, with my small power, will