Euryale, however, found it difficult to keep back her tears while she stroked the girl's hair and arranged the folds of her garment.

When at last she said good-by to Melissa and was embracing her, she was reminded of the farewell she had taken, many years ago, of a Christian friend before she was led away by the lictors to martyrdom in the circus.

Finally, she whispered something in the philosopher's ear, and received from him the promise to return with Melissa as soon as possible.
Philostratus was, in fact, quite easy.

Just before, Caracalla's helpless glance had met his sympathizing gaze, and the suffering Caesar had said nothing to him but: "O Philostratus, I am in such pain!" and these words still rang in the ears of this warm-hearted man.
While he was endeavoring to comfort the emperor, Caesar's eyes had fallen on the gem, and he asked to see it.

He gazed at it attentively for some time, and when he returned it to the philosopher he had ordered him to fetch the prototype of Roxana.
Closely enveloped in the veil which Euryale had placed on her head, Melissa passed from room to room, keeping near to the philosopher.
Wherever she appeared she heard murmuring and whispering that troubled her, and tittering followed her from several of the rooms as she left them; even from the large hall where the emperor's friends awaited his orders in numbers, she heard a loud laugh that frightened and annoyed her.
She no longer felt as unconstrained as she had been that morning when she had come before Caesar.