Of all things sacred, the thought of her is the highest; and if she had been raised to divine honors like the dead Caesars who have brought so many curses on the world--" "Hush--don't speak so loud!" said Melissa, seriously, for men were moving to and fro among the tombs, and Roman guards kept watch over the populace.
But the rash youth went on in the same tone: "I would worship her gladly, though I have forgotten how to pray.

For who can tell here--unless he follows the herd and worships Serapis--who can tell to which god of them all he shall turn when he happens to be at his wits' end?
While my mother lived, I, like you, could gladly worship and sacrifice to the immortals; but Philip has spoiled me for all that.
As to the divine Caesars, every one thinks as I do.

My mother would sooner have entered a pesthouse than the banqueting-hall where they feast, on Olympus.

Caracalla among the gods! Why, Father Zeus cast his son Hephaistos on earth from the height of Olympus, and only broke his leg; but our Caesar accomplished a more powerful throw, for he cast his brother through the earth into the nether world--an imperial thrust--and not merely lamed him but killed him." "Well done!" said a deep voice, interrupting the young artist.

"Is that you, Alexander?
Hear what new titles to fame Heron's son can find for the imperial guest who is to arrive to-morrow." "Pray hush!" Melissa besought him, looking up at the bearded man who had laid his arm on Alexander's shoulder.