beat quicker. It was as if this
immeasurable army had only one voice; as if an irresistible force drew
all these thousands of eyes toward one point--the one little man up
there on the Pantheon.

Directly he began to speak, Melissa's glance was also fixed on
Caracalla.

She only heard the closing sentence, as, with raised voice, he shouted
to the soldiers; and from it she gathered that he thanked his companions
in arms for their anxiety, but that he still felt strong enough to share
all their difficulties with them. Severe exertions lay behind them. The
rest in this luxurious city would do them all good. There was still much
to be conquered in the rich East, and to add to what they had already
won, before they could return to Rome to celebrate a well-earned
triumph. The weary should make themselves comfortable here. The wealthy
merchants in whose houses he had quartered them had been told to attend
to their wants, and if they neglected to do so every single warrior
was man enough to show them what a soldier needed for his comfort.
The people here looked askance at him and his soldiers, but too much
moderation would be misplaced.

There certainly were some things even here which the host was not bound
to supply to his military; he, Caesar, would provide them with these,
and for that purpose he had put aside two million denarii out of his own
poverty to distribute among them.

This speech had several times been interrupted by applause, but now such
a tremendous shout of joy went up that it would have drowned the loudest
thunder. The number of voices as well as their power seemed to have
doubled.

Caracalla had added another link to the golden chain which already
bound him to these faithful people; and, as he smiled and nodded to the
delighted crowd from the balcony, he looked like a happy, light-hearted
youth who had prepared a great treat for himself and several beloved
friends.

What he said further was lost in the confusion of voices in the square.
The ranks were broken up, and the cuirasses, helmets, and arms of the
moving warriors caught the sun and sent bright beams of light crossing
one another over the wide space surrounded with dazzling white marble
statues.

When Caracalla left the balcony, Melissa drew back from the window.

The compassionate impulse to lighten the lot of a sufferer, which had
before drawn her so strongly to Caracalla, had now lost its sense and
meaning for this healthy, high-spirited