The soul of Alexander might now do great things through him.
During this conversation the alarm which had come over Melissa at Caesar's silence had entirely disappeared.

The despot whose suffering had appealed to her sympathetic soul, now struck her as singular rather than terrible.

The idea that she, the humble artist's daughter, could harbor the soul of a Persian princess, amused her; and when the lion lifted his head and lashed the floor with his tail at her approach, she felt that she had won his approbation.

Moved by a sudden impulse, she laid her hand on his head and boldly stroked it.

The light, warm touch soothed the fettered prince of the desert, and, rubbing his brow against Melissa's round arm, he muttered a low, contented growl.
At this Caesar was enchanted; it was to him a further proof of his strange fancy.