He kissed Melissa on the head, nodded patronizingly to Andreas, and left the house.

His soft-hearted devotion to a vision had weakened his combativeness; still, he would have yielded less readily to a man who had once been a slave, but that the invitation to Melissa released him of her presence for a while.

He was not, indeed, afraid of his daughter; but she need not know that he wanted Philip to make him acquainted with Serapion, and that through his mediation he hoped at least to see the spirit of the wife he mourned.  When he was fairly out of the house he smiled with satisfaction like a school-boy who had escaped his master.

CHAPTER VII.

Melissa, too, had a sense of freedom when she found herself walking by the side of Andreas.

In the garden of Hermes, where her father’s house stood, there were few signs of the excitement with which the citizens awaited Caesar’s arrival.  Most of those who were out and about were going in the opposite direction; they meant to await the grand reception of Caracalla at the eastern end of the city, on his way from the Kanopic Gate to the Gate of the Sun.  Still, a good many—­men, women and children—­were, like themselves, walking westward, for it was known that Caesar would alight at the Serapeum.

They had scarcely left the house when Andreas asked the girl whether she had a kerchief or a veil in the basket the slave was carrying behind her; and on her replying in the affirmative, he expressed his satisfaction; for Caracalla’s soldiery, in consequence of the sovereign’s weakened discipline and reckless liberality, were little better than an unbridled rabble.

“Then let us keep out of their way,” urged Melissa.

“Certainly, as much as possible,” said her companion.  “At any rate, let us hurry, so as to get back to the lake before the crowd stops the way.

“You have passed an eventful and anxious night, my child, and are tired, no doubt.”

“Oh, no!” said she, calmly; “I had some wine to refresh me, and some food with the Christians.”

“Then they received you kindly?”

“The only woman there nursed Diodoros like a mother; and the men were considerate and careful.  My father does not know them; and yet—­Well, you know how much he dislikes them.”

“He follows the multitude,” returned Andreas, “the common herd, who hate everything exceptional, everything that disturbs their round of life, or startles them out of the quietude of their dull dreams.  Woe to those who call by its true name what those blind souls call pleasure and enjoyment as serving to hasten the flight of time—­not too long at the most; woe to those who dare raise even a finger against it!”

The man’s deep, subdued tones were strongly expressive of the wrath within him; and the girl, who kept close to his side, asked with eager anxiety, “Then my father was right when he said that you are a member of the Christian body?”