diff options
Diffstat (limited to '5466-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 5466-0.txt | 10790 |
1 files changed, 10790 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/5466-0.txt b/5466-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abed95b --- /dev/null +++ b/5466-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10790 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sisters, Complete, by Georg Ebers + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sisters, Complete + +Author: Georg Ebers + +Release Date: October 16, 2006 [EBook #5466] +Last Updated: August 25, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SISTERS, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +THE SISTERS, Complete + +By Georg Ebers + +Translated from the German by Clara Bell + + + + +DEDICATION TO HERR EDUARD von HALLBERGER + +Allow me, my dear friend, to dedicate these pages to you. I present them +to you at the close of a period of twenty years during which a warm and +fast friendship has subsisted between us, unbroken by any disagreement. +Four of my works have first seen the light under your care and have +wandered all over the world under the protection of your name. This, my +fifth book, I desire to make especially your own; it was partly written +in your beautiful home at Tutzing, under your hospitable roof, and I +desire to prove to you by some visible token that I know how to value +your affection and friendship and the many happy hours we have passed +together, refreshing and encouraging each other by a full and perfect +interchange of thought and sentiment. + + + + +PREFACE. + +By a marvellous combination of circumstances a number of fragments of +the Royal Archives of Memphis have been preserved from destruction with +the rest, containing petitions written on papyrus in the Greek language; +these were composed by a recluse of Macedonian birth, living in the +Serapeum, in behalf of two sisters, twins, who served the god as +“Pourers out of the libations.” + +At a first glance these petitions seem scarcely worthy of serious +consideration; but a closer study of their contents shows us that +we possess in them documents of the greatest value in the history +of manners. They prove that the great Monastic Idea--which under the +influence of Christianity grew to be of such vast moral and historical +significance--first struck root in one of the centres of heathen +religious practices; besides affording us a quite unexpected insight +into the internal life of the temple of Serapis, whose ruined walls +have, in our own day, been recovered from the sand of the desert by the +indefatigable industry of the French Egyptologist Monsieur Mariette. + +I have been so fortunate as to visit this spot and to search through +every part of it, and the petitions I speak of have been familiar to me +for years. When, however, quite recently, one of my pupils undertook to +study more particularly one of these documents--preserved in the Royal +Library at Dresden--I myself reinvestigated it also, and this study +impressed on my fancy a vivid picture of the Serapeum under Ptolemy +Philometor; the outlines became clear and firm, and acquired color, and +it is this picture which I have endeavored to set before the reader, so +far as words admit, in the following pages. + +I did not indeed select for my hero the recluse, nor for my heroines +the twins who are spoken of in the petitions, but others who might have +lived at a somewhat earlier date under similar conditions; for it is +proved by the papyrus that it was not once only and by accident that +twins were engaged in serving in the temple of Serapis, but that, on the +contrary, pair after pair of sisters succeeded each other in the office +of pouring out libations. + +I have not invested Klea and Irene with this function, but have +simply placed them as wards of the Serapeum and growing up within its +precincts. I selected this alternative partly because the existing +sources of knowledge give us very insufficient information as to the +duties that might have been required of the twins, partly for other +reasons arising out of the plan of my narrative. + +Klea and Irene are purely imaginary personages, but on the other hand +I have endeavored, by working from tolerably ample sources, to give a +faithful picture of the historical physiognomy of the period in which +they live and move, and portraits of the two hostile brothers Ptolemy +Philometor and Euergetes II., the latter of whom bore the nickname of +Physkon: the Stout. The Eunuch Eulaeus and the Roman Publius Cornelius +Scipio Nasica, are also historical personages. + +I chose the latter from among the many young patricians living at the +time, partly on account of the strong aristocratic feeling which he +displayed, particularly in his later life, and partly because his +nickname of Serapion struck me. This name I account for in my own way, +although I am aware that he owed it to his resemblance to a person of +inferior rank. + +For the further enlightenment of the reader who is not familiar with +this period of Egyptian history I may suggest that Cleopatra, the wife +of Ptolemy Philometor--whom I propose to introduce to the reader--must +not be confounded with her famous namesake, the beloved of Julius Caesar +and Mark Antony. The name Cleopatra was a very favorite one among the +Lagides, and of the queens who bore it she who has become famous through +Shakespeare (and more lately through Makart) was the seventh, the sister +and wife of Ptolemy XIV. Her tragical death from the bite of a viper or +asp did not occur until 134 years later than the date of my narrative, +which I have placed 164 years B.C. + +At that time Egypt had already been for 169 years subject to the rule +of a Greek (Macedonian) dynasty, which owed its name as that of the +Ptolemies or Lagides to its founder Ptolemy Soter, the son of Lagus. +This energetic man, a general under Alexander the Great, when his +sovereign--333 B.C.--had conquered the whole Nile Valley, was appointed +governor of the new Satrapy; after Alexander’s death in 323 B.C., +Ptolemy mounted the throne of the Pharaohs, and he and his descendants +ruled over Egypt until after the death of the last and most famous of +the Cleopatras, when it was annexed as a province to the Roman Empire. + +This is not the place for giving a history of the successive Ptolemies, +but I may remark that the assimilating faculty exercised by the Greeks +over other nations was potent in Egypt; particularly as the result of +the powerful influence of Alexandria, the capital founded by Alexander, +which developed with wonderful rapidity to be one of the most splendid +centres of Hellenic culture and of Hellenic art and science. + +Long before the united rule of the hostile brothers Ptolemy Philometor +and Euergetes--whose violent end will be narrated to the reader of this +story--Greek influence was marked in every event and detail of Egyptian +life, which had remained almost unaffected by the characteristics of +former conquerors--the Hyksos, the Assyrians and the Persians; and, +under the Ptolemies, the most inhospitable and exclusive nation of early +antiquity threw open her gates to foreigners of every race. + +Alexandria was a metropolis even in the modern sense; not merely an +emporium of commerce, but a focus where the intellectual and religious +treasures of various countries were concentrated and worked up, and +transmitted to all the nations that desired them. I have resisted the +temptation to lay the scene of my story there, because in Alexandria +the Egyptian element was too much overlaid by the Greek, and the +too splendid and important scenery and decorations might easily have +distracted the reader’s attention from the dramatic interest of the +persons acting. + +At that period of the Hellenic dominion which I have described, the +kings of Egypt were free to command in all that concerned the internal +affairs of their kingdom, but the rapidly-growing power of the Roman +Empire enabled her to check the extension of their dominion, just as she +chose. + +Philometor himself had heartily promoted the immigration of Israelites +from Palestine, and under him the important Jewish community in +Alexandria acquired an influence almost greater than the Greek; and this +not only in the city but in the kingdom and over their royal protector, +who allowed them to build a temple to Jehovah on the shores of the +Nile, and in his own person assisted at the dogmatic discussions of the +Israelites educated in the Greek schools of the city. Euergetes II., a +highly gifted but vicious and violent man, was, on the contrary, just +as inimical to them; he persecuted them cruelly as soon as his brother’s +death left him sole ruler over Egypt. His hand fell heavily even on +the members of the Great Academy--the Museum, as it was called--of +Alexandria, though he himself had been devoted to the grave labors of +science, and he compelled them to seek a new home. The exiled sons of +learning settled in various cities on the shores of the Mediterranean, +and thus contributed not a little to the diffusion of the intellectual +results of the labors in the Museum. + +Aristarchus, the greatest of Philometor’s learned contemporaries, has +reported for us a conversation in the king’s palace at Memphis. The +verses about “the puny child of man,” recited by Cleopatra in chapter +X., are not genuinely antique; but Friedrich Ritschl--the Aristarchus of +our own days, now dead--thought very highly of them and gave them to +me, some years ago, with several variations which had been added by an +anonymous hand, then still in the land of the living. I have added to +the first verse two of these, which, as I learned at the eleventh hour, +were composed by Herr H. L. von Held, who is now dead, and of whom +further particulars may be learned from Varnhagen’s ‘Biographisclaen +Denkmalen’. Vol. VII. I think the reader will thank me for directing +his attention to these charming lines and to the genius displayed in the +moral application of the main idea. Verses such as these might very well +have been written by Callimachus or some other poet of the circle of the +early members of the Museum of Alexandria. + +I was also obliged in this narrative to concentrate, in one limited +canvas as it were, all the features which were at once the conditions +and the characteristics of a great epoch of civilization, and to give +them form and movement by setting the history of some of the men then +living before the reader, with its complications and its denouement. All +the personages of my story grew up in my imagination from a study of the +times in which they lived, but when once I saw them clearly in outline +they soon stood before my mind in a more distinct form, like people in +a dream; I felt the poet’s pleasure in creation, and as I painted them +their blood grew warm, their pulses began to beat and their spirit to +take wings and stir, each in its appropriate nature. I gave history her +due, but the historic figures retired into the background beside the +human beings as such; the representatives of an epoch became vehicles +for a Human Ideal, holding good for all time; and thus it is that +I venture to offer this transcript of a period as really a dramatic +romance. + +Leipzig November 13, 1879. GEORG EBERS. + + + + +THE SISTERS. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +On the wide, desert plain of the Necropolis of Memphis stands the +extensive and stately pile of masonry which constitutes the Greek temple +of Serapis; by its side are the smaller sanctuaries of Asclepios, of +Anubis and of Astarte, and a row of long, low houses, built of unburnt +bricks, stretches away behind them as a troop of beggar children might +follow in the train of some splendidly attired king. + +The more dazzlingly brilliant the smooth, yellow sandstone walls of the +temple appear in the light of the morning sun, the more squalid and mean +do the dingy houses look as they crouch in the outskirts. When the winds +blow round them and the hot sunbeams fall upon them, the dust rises +from them in clouds as from a dry path swept by the gale. Even the rooms +inside are never plastered, and as the bricks are of dried Nile-mud +mixed with chopped straw, of which the sharp little ends stick out from +the wall in every direction, the surface is as disagreeable to touch as +it is unpleasing to look at. When they were first built on the ground +between the temple itself and the wall which encloses the precincts, and +which, on the eastern side, divides the acacia-grove of Serapis in half, +they were concealed from the votaries visiting the temple by the back +wall of a colonnade on the eastern side of the great forecourt; but a +portion of this colonnade has now fallen down, and through the breach, +part of these modest structures are plainly visible with their doors +and windows opening towards the sanctuary--or, to speak more accurately, +certain rudely constructed openings for looking out of or for entering +by. Where there is a door there is no window, and where a gap in +the wall serves for a window, a door is dispensed with; none of the +chambers, however, of this long row of low one-storied buildings +communicate with each other. + +A narrow and well-trodden path leads through the breach in the wall; the +pebbles are thickly strewn with brown dust, and the footway leads past +quantities of blocks of stone and portions of columns destined for the +construction of a new building which seems only to have been intermitted +the night before, for mallets and levers lie on and near the various +materials. This path leads directly to the little brick houses, and ends +at a small closed wooden door so roughly joined and so ill-hung that +between it and the threshold, which is only raised a few inches above +the ground, a fine gray cat contrives to squeeze herself through by +putting down her head and rubbing through the dust. As soon as she +finds herself once more erect on her four legs she proceeds to clean and +smooth her ruffled fur, putting up her back, and glancing with gleaming +eyes at the house she has just left, behind which at this moment the sun +is rising; blinded by its bright rays she turns away and goes on with +cautious and silent tread into the court of the temple. + +The hovel out of which pussy has crept is small and barely furnished; it +would be perfectly dark too, but that the holes in the roof and the rift +in the door admit light into this most squalid room. There is nothing +standing against its rough gray walls but a wooden chest, near this a +few earthen bowls stand on the ground with a wooden cup and a gracefully +wrought jug of pure and shining gold, which looks strangely out of place +among such humble accessories. Quite in the background lie two mats of +woven bast, each covered with a sheepskin. These are the beds of the two +girls who inhabit the room, one of whom is now sitting on a low stool +made of palm-branches, and she yawns as she begins to arrange her long +and shining brown hair. She is not particularly skilful and even less +patient over this not very easy task, and presently, when a fresh tangle +checks the horn comb with which she is dressing it, she tosses the comb +on to the couch. She has not pulled it through her hair with any haste +nor with much force, but she shuts her eyes so tightly and sets her +white teeth so firmly in her red dewy lip that it might be supposed that +she had hurt herself very much. + +A shuffling step is now audible outside the door; she opens wide her +tawny-hazel eyes, that have a look of gazing on the world in surprise, +a smile parts her lips and her whole aspect is as completely changed as +that of a butterfly which escapes from the shade into the sunshine where +the bright beams are reflected in the metallic lustre of its wings. + +A hasty hand knocks at the ill-hung door, so roughly that it trembles on +its hinges, and the instant after a wooden trencher is shoved in through +the wide chink by which the cat made her escape; on it are a thin +round cake of bread and a shallow earthen saucer containing a little +olive-oil; there is no more than might perhaps be contained in half an +ordinary egg-shell, but it looks fresh and sweet, and shines in clear, +golden purity. The girl goes to the door, pulls in the platter, and, as +she measures the allowance with a glance, exclaims half in lament and +half in reproach: + +“So little! and is that for both of us?” + +As she speaks her expressive features have changed again and her +flashing eyes are directed towards the door with a glance of as much +dismay as though the sun and stars had been suddenly extinguished; and +yet her only grief is the smallness of the loaf, which certainly is +hardly large enough to stay the hunger of one young creature--and two +must share it; what is a mere nothing in one man’s life, to another may +be of great consequence and of terrible significance. + +The reproachful complaint is heard by the messenger outside the door, +for the old woman who shoved in the trencher over the threshold answers +quickly but not crossly. + +“Nothing more to-day, Irene.” + +“It is disgraceful,” cries the girl, her eyes filling with tears, “every +day the loaf grows smaller, and if we were sparrows we should not have +enough to satisfy us. You know what is due to us and I will never cease +to complain and petition. Serapion shall draw up a fresh address for us, +and when the king knows how shamefully we are treated--” + +“Aye! when he knows,” interrupted the old woman. “But the cry of the +poor is tossed about by many winds before it reaches the king’s ear. I +might find a shorter way than that for you and your sister if fasting +comes so much amiss to you. Girls with faces like hers and yours, my +little Irene, need never come to want.” + +“And pray what is my face like?” asked the girl, and her pretty features +once more seemed to catch a gleam of sunshine. + +“Why, so handsome that you may always venture to show it beside your +sister’s; and yesterday, in the procession, the great Roman sitting by +the queen looked as often at her as at Cleopatra herself. If you had +been there too he would not have had a glance for the queen, for you are +a pretty thing, as I can tell you. And there are many girls would sooner +hear those words then have a whole loaf--besides you have a mirror I +suppose, look in that next time you are hungry.” + +The old woman’s shuffling steps retreated again and the girl snatched up +the golden jar, opened the door a little way to let in the daylight and +looked at herself in the bright surface; but the curve of the costly +vase showed her features all distorted, and she gaily breathed on the +hideous travestie that met her eyes, so that it was all blurred out by +the moisture. Then she smilingly put down the jar, and opening the chest +took from it a small metal mirror into which she looked again and yet +again, arranging her shining hair first in one way and then in another; +and she only laid it down when she remembered a certain bunch of violets +which had attracted her attention when she first woke, and which must +have been placed in their saucer of water by her sister some time the +day before. Without pausing to consider she took up the softly scented +blossoms, dried their green stems on her dress, took up the mirror again +and stuck the flowers in her hair. + +How bright her eyes were now, and how contentedly she put out her hand +for the loaf. And how fair were the visions that rose before her young +fancy as she broke off one piece after another and hastily eat them +after slightly moistening them with the fresh oil. Once, at the festival +of the New Year, she had had a glimpse into the king’s tent, and there +she had seen men and women feasting as they reclined on purple cushions. +Now she dreamed of tables covered with costly vessels, was served in +fancy by boys crowned with flowers, heard the music of flutes and harps +and--for she was no more than a child and had such a vigorous young +appetite--pictured herself as selecting the daintiest and sweetest +morsels out of dishes of solid gold and eating till she was satisfied, +aye so perfectly satisfied that the very last mouthful of bread and the +very last drop of oil had disappeared. + +But so soon as her hand found nothing more on the empty trencher the +bright illusion vanished, and she looked with dismay into the empty +oil-cup and at the place where just now the bread had been. + +“Ah!” she sighed from the bottom of her heart; then she turned the +platter over as though it might be possible to find some more bread +and oil on the other side of it, but finally shaking her head she sat +looking thoughtfully into her lap; only for a few minutes however, +for the door opened and the slim form of her sister Klea appeared, the +sister whose meagre rations she had dreamily eaten up, and Klea had been +sitting up half the night sewing for her, and then had gone out +before sunrise to fetch water from the Well of the Sun for the morning +sacrifice at the altar of Serapis. + +Klea greeted her sister with a loving glance but without speaking; she +seemed too exhausted for words and she wiped the drops from her forehead +with the linen veil that covered the back of her head as she seated +herself on the lid of the chest. Irene immediately glanced at the empty +trencher, considering whether she had best confess her guilt to the +wearied girl and beg for forgiveness, or divert the scolding she had +deserved by some jest, as she had often succeeded in doing before. This +seemed the easier course and she adopted it at once; she went up to her +sister quickly, but not quite unconcernedly, and said with mock gravity: + +“Look here, Klea, don’t you notice anything in me? I must look like +a crocodile that has eaten a whole hippopotamus, or one of the sacred +snakes after it has swallowed a rabbit. Only think when I had eaten my +own bread I found yours between my teeth--quite unexpectedly--but now--” + +Klea, thus addressed, glanced at the empty platter and interrupted her +sister with a low-toned exclamation. “Oh! I was so hungry.” + +The words expressed no reproof, only utter exhaustion, and as the young +criminal looked at her sister and saw her sitting there, tired and worn +out but submitting to the injury that had been done her without a word +of complaint, her heart, easily touched, was filled with compunction and +regret. She burst into tears and threw herself on the ground before her, +clasping her knees and crying, in a voice broken with sobs: + +“Oh Klea! poor, dear Klea, what have I done! but indeed I did not mean +any harm. I don’t know how it happened. Whatever I feel prompted to do I +do, I can’t help doing it, and it is not till it is done that I begin to +know whether it was right or wrong. You sat up and worried yourself for +me, and this is how I repay you--I am a bad girl! But you shall not go +hungry--no, you shall not.” + +“Never mind; never mind,” said the elder, and she stroked her sister’s +brown hair with a loving hand. + +But as she did so she came upon the violets fastened among the shining +tresses. Her lips quivered and her weary expression changed as she +touched the flowers and glanced at the empty saucer in which she had +carefully placed them the clay before. Irene at once perceived the +change in her sister’s face, and thinking only that she was surprised at +her pretty adornment, she said gaily: “Do you think the flowers becoming +to me?” + +Klea’s hand was already extended to take the violets out of the brown +plaits, for her sister was still kneeling before her, but at this +question her arm dropped, and she said more positively and distinctly +than she had yet spoken and in a voice, whose sonorous but musical tones +were almost masculine and certainly remarkable in a girl: + +“The bunch of flowers belongs to me; but keep it till it is faded, by +mid-day, and then return it to me.” + +“It belongs to you?” repeated the younger girl, raising her eyes in +surprise to her sister, for to this hour what had been Klea’s had been +hers also. “But I always used to take the flowers you brought home; what +is there special in these?” + +“They are only violets like any other violets,” replied Klea coloring +deeply. “But the queen has worn them.” + +“The queen!” cried her sister springing to her feet and clasping her +hands in astonishment. “She gave you the flowers? And you never told me +till now? To be sure when you came home from the procession yesterday +you only asked me how my foot was and whether my clothes were whole and +then not another mortal word did you utter. Did Cleopatra herself give +you this bunch?” + +“How should she?” retorted Klea. “One of her escort threw them to +me; but drop the subject pray! Give me the water, please, my mouth is +parched and I can hardly speak for thirst.” + +The bright color dyed her cheeks again as she spoke, but Irene did not +observe it, for--delighted to make up for her evil doings by performing +some little service--she ran to fetch the water-jar; while Klea filled +and emptied her wooden bowl she said, gracefully lifting a small foot, +to show to her sister: + +“Look, the cut is almost healed and I can wear my sandal again. Now +I shall tie it on and go and ask Serapion for some bread for you and +perhaps he will give us a few dates. Please loosen the straps for me +a little, here, round the ankle, my skin is so thin and tender that a +little thing hurts me which you would hardly feel. At mid-day I will go +with you and help fill the jars for the altar, and later in the day I +can accompany you in the procession which was postponed from yesterday. +If only the queen and the great foreigner should come again to look +on at it! That would be splendid! Now, I am going, and before you have +drunk the last bowl of water you shall have some bread, for I will coax +the old man so prettily that he can’t say ‘no.’” + +Irene opened the door, and as the broad sunlight fell in it lighted up +tints of gold in her chestnut hair, and her sister looking after her +could almost fancy that the sunbeams had got entangled with the waving +glory round her head. The bunch of violets was the last thing she took +note of as Irene went out into the open air; then she was alone and she +shook her head gently as she said to herself: “I give up everything to +her and what I have left she takes from me. Three times have I met the +Roman, yesterday he gave me the violets, and I did want to keep those +for myself--and now--” As she spoke she clasped the bowl she still held +in her hand closely to her and her lips trembled pitifully, but only for +an instant; she drew herself up and said firmly: “But it is all as it +should be.” + +Then she was silent; she set down the water-jar on the chest by her +side, passed the back of her hand across her forehead as if her head +were aching, then, as she sat gazing down dreamily into her lap, her +weary head presently fell on her shoulder and she was asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +The low brick building of which the sisters’ room formed a part, was +called the Pastophorium, and it was occupied also by other persons +attached to the service of the temple, and by numbers of pilgrims. These +assembled here from all parts of Egypt, and were glad to pass a night +under the protection of the sanctuary. + +Irene, when she quitted her sister, went past many doors--which had +been thrown open after sunrise--hastily returning the greetings of many +strange as well as familiar faces, for all glanced after her kindly as +though to see her thus early were an omen of happy augury, and she soon +reached an outbuilding adjoining the northern end of the Pastophorium; +here there was no door, but at the level of about a man’s height from +the ground there were six unclosed windows opening on the road. From the +first of these the pale and much wrinkled face of an old man looked down +on the girl as she approached. She shouted up to him in cheerful accents +the greeting familiar to the Hellenes “Rejoice!” But he, without moving +his lips, gravely and significantly signed to her with his lean hand +and with a glance from his small, fixed and expressionless eyes that she +should wait, and then handed out to her a wooden trencher on which lay a +few dates and half a cake of bread. + +“For the altar of the god?” asked the girl. The old man nodded assent, +and Irene went on with her small load, with the assurance of a person +who knows exactly what is required of her; but after going a few steps +and before she had reached the last of the six windows she paused, for +she plainly heard voices and steps, and presently, at the end of the +Pastophorium towards which she was proceeding and which opened into a +small grove of acacias dedicated to Serapis--which was of much greater +extent outside the enclosing wall--appeared a little group of men whose +appearance attracted her attention; but she was afraid to go on towards +the strangers, so, leaning close up to the wall of the houses, she +awaited their departure, listening the while to what they were saying. + +In front of these early visitors to the temple walked a man with a long +staff in his right hand speaking to the two gentlemen who followed, with +the air of a professional guide, who is accustomed to talk as if he were +reading to his audience out of an invisible book, and whom the hearers +are unwilling to interrupt with questions, because they know that his +knowledge scarcely extends beyond exactly what he says. Of his two +remarkable-looking hearers one was wrapped in a long and splendid robe +and wore a rich display of gold chains and rings, while the other wore +nothing over his short chiton but a Roman toga thrown over his left +shoulder. + +His richly attired companion was an old man with a full and beardless +face and thin grizzled hair. Irene gazed at him with admiration and +astonishment, but when she had feasted her eyes on the stuffs and +ornaments he wore, she fixed them with much greater interest and +attention on the tall and youthful figure at his side. + +“Like Hui, the cook’s fat poodle, beside a young lion,” thought she to +herself, as she noted the bustling step of the one and the independent +and elastic gait of the other. She felt irresistibly tempted to mimic +the older man, but this audacious impulse was soon quelled for scarcely +had the guide explained to the Roman that it was here that those pious +recluses had their cells who served the god in voluntary captivity, as +being consecrated to Serapis, and that they received their food through +those windows--here he pointed upwards with his staff when suddenly a +shutter, which the cicerone of this ill-matched pair had touched with +his stick, flew open with as much force and haste as if a violent gust +of wind had caught it, and flung it back against the wall.--And no less +suddenly a man’s head-of ferocious aspect and surrounded by a shock of +gray hair like a lion’s mane--looked out of the window and shouted to +him who had knocked, in a deep and somewhat overloud voice. + +“If my shutter had been your back, you impudent rascal, your stick would +have hit the right thing. Or if I had a cudgel between my teeth instead +of a tongue, I would exercise it on you till it was as tired as that +of a preacher who has threshed his empty straw to his congregation for +three mortal hours. Scarcely is the sun risen when we are plagued by +the parasitical and inquisitive mob. Why! they will rouse us at midnight +next, and throw stones at our rotten old shutters. The effects of my +last greeting lasted you for three weeks--to-day’s I hope may act a +little longer. You, gentlemen there, listen to me. Just as the raven +follows an army to batten on the dead, so that fellow there stalks on +in front of strangers in order to empty their pockets--and you, who call +yourself an interpreter, and in learning Greek have forgotten the little +Egyptian you ever knew, mark this: When you have to guide strangers take +them to see the Sphinx, or to consult the Apis in the temple of Ptah, +or lead them to the king’s beast-garden at Alexandria, or the taverns +at Hanopus, but don’t bring them here, for we are neither pheasants, nor +flute-playing women, nor miraculous beasts, who take a pleasure in being +stared at. You, gentlemen, ought to choose a better guide than this +chatter-mag that keeps up its perpetual rattle when once you set it +going. As to yourselves I will tell you one thing: Inquisitive eyes are +intrusive company, and every prudent house holder guards himself against +them by keeping his door shut.” + +Irene shrank back and flattened herself against the pilaster which +concealed her, for the shutter closed again with a slam, the recluse +pulling it to with a rope attached to its outer edge, and he was hidden +from the gaze of the strangers; but only for an instant, for the rusty +hinges on which the shutter was hanging were not strong enough to bear +such violent treatment, and slowly giving way it was about to fall. The +blustering hermit stretched out an arm to support it and save it; but +it was heavy, and his efforts would not have succeeded had not the young +man in Roman dress given his assistance and lifted up the shutter with +his hand and shoulder, without any effort, as if it were made of willow +laths instead of strong planks. + +“A little higher still,” shouted the recluse to his assistant. “Let us +set the thing on its edge! so, push away, a little more. There, I have +propped up the wretched thing and there it may lie. If the bats pay me a +visit to-night I will think of you and give them your best wishes.” + +“You may save yourself that trouble,” replied the young man with cool +dignity. “I will send you a carpenter who shall refix the shutter, and +we offer you our apologies for having been the occasion of the mischief +that has happened.” + +The old man did not interrupt the speaker, but, when he had stared at +him from head to foot, he said: “You are strong and you speak fairly, +and I might like you well enough if you were in other company. I don’t +want your carpenter; only send me down a hammer, a wedge, and a few +strong nails. Now, you can do nothing more for me, so pack off!” + +“We are going at once,” said the more handsomely dressed visitor in a +thin and effeminate voice. “What can a man do when the boys pelt him +with dirt from a safe hiding-place, but take himself off.” + +“Be off, be off,” said the person thus described, with a laugh. “As +far off as Samothrace if you like, fat Eulaeus; you can scarcely have +forgotten the way there since you advised the king to escape thither +with all his treasure. But if you cannot trust yourself to find it +alone, I recommend you your interpreter and guide there to show you the +road.” + +The Eunuch Eulaeus, the favorite councillor of King Ptolemy--called +Philometor (the lover of his mother)--turned pale at these words, cast +a sinister glance at the old man and beckoned to the young Roman; he +however was not inclined to follow, for the scolding old oddity had +taken his fancy--perhaps because he was conscious that the old man, +who generally showed no reserve in his dislikes, had a liking for him. +Besides, he found nothing to object to in his opinion of his companions, +so he turned to Eulaeus and said courteously: + +“Accept my best thanks for your company so far, and do not let me detain +you any longer from your more important occupations on my account.” + +Eulaeus bowed and replied, “I know what my duty is. The king entrusted +me with your safe conduct; permit me therefore to wait for you under the +acacias yonder.” + +When Eulaeus and the guide had reached the green grove, Irene hoped to +find an opportunity to prefer her petition, but the Roman had stopped in +front of the old man’s cell, and had begun a conversation with him which +she could not venture to interrupt. She set down the platter with the +bread and dates that had been entrusted to her on a projecting stone +by her side with a little sigh, crossed her arms and feet as she leaned +against the wall, and pricked up her ears to hear their talk. + +“I am not a Greek,” said the youth, “and you are quite mistaken in +thinking that I came to Egypt and to see you out of mere curiosity.” + +“But those who come only to pray in the temple,” interrupted the other, +“do not--as it seems to me--choose an Eulaeus for a companion, or any +such couple as those now waiting for you under the acacias, and invoking +anything rather than blessings on your head; at any rate, for my own +part, even if I were a thief I would not go stealing in their company. +What then brought you to Serapis?” + +“It is my turn now to accuse you of curiosity!” + +“By all means,” cried the old man, “I am an honest dealer and quite +willing to take back the coin I am ready to pay away. Have you come to +have a dream interpreted, or to sleep in the temple yonder and have a +face revealed to you?” + +“Do I look so sleepy,” said the Roman, “as to want to go to bed again +now, only an hour after sunrise?” + +“It may be,” said the recluse, “that you have not yet fairly come to the +end of yesterday, and that at the fag-end of some revelry it occurred to +you that you might visit us and sleep away your headache at Serapis.” + +“A good deal of what goes on outside these walls seems to come to your +ears,” retorted the Roman, “and if I were to meet you in the street +I should take you for a ship’s captain or a master-builder who had to +manage a number of unruly workmen. According to what I heard of you and +those like you in Athens and elsewhere, I expected to find you something +quite different.” + +“What did you expect?” said Serapion laughing. “I ask you +notwithstanding the risk of being again considered curious.” + +“And I am very willing to answer,” retorted the other, “but if I were to +tell you the whole truth I should run into imminent danger of being sent +off as ignominiously as my unfortunate guide there.” + +“Speak on,” said the old man, “I keep different garments for different +men, and the worst are not for those who treat me to that rare dish--a +little truth. But before you serve me up so bitter a meal tell me, what +is your name?” + +“Shall I call the guide?” said the Roman with an ironical laugh. “He +can describe me completely, and give you the whole history of my family. +But, joking apart, my name is Publius.” + +“The name of at least one out of every three of your countrymen.” + +“I am of the Cornelia gens and of the family of the Scipios,” continued +the youth in a low voice, as though he would rather avoid boasting of +his illustrious name. + +“Indeed, a noble gentleman, a very grand gentleman!” said the recluse, +bowing deeply out of his window. “But I knew that beforehand, for at +your age and with such slender ankles to his long legs only a nobleman +could walk as you walk. Then Publius Cornelius--” + +“Nay, call me Scipio, or rather by my first name only, Publius,” the +youth begged him. “You are called Serapion, and I will tell you what you +wish to know. When I was told that in this temple there were people who +had themselves locked into their little chambers never to quit them, +taking thought about their dreams and leading a meditative life, I +thought they must be simpletons or fools or both at once.” + +“Just so, just so,” interrupted Serapion. “But there is a fourth +alternative you did not think of. Suppose now among these men there +should be some shut up against their will, and what if I were one of +those prisoners? I have asked you a great many questions and you have +not hesitated to answer, and you may know how I got into this miserable +cage and why I stay in it. I am the son of a good family, for my father +was overseer of the granaries of this temple and was of Macedonian +origin, but my mother was an Egyptian. I was born in an evil hour, on +the twenty-seventh day of the month of Paophi, a day which it is said in +the sacred books that it is an evil day and that the child that is +born in it must be kept shut up or else it will die of a snake-bite. In +consequence of this luckless prediction many of those born on the same +day as myself were, like me, shut up at an early age in this cage. My +father would very willingly have left me at liberty, but my uncle, a +caster of horoscopes in the temple of Ptah, who was all in all in my +mother’s estimation, and his friends with him, found many other evil +signs about my body, read misfortune for me in the stars, declared that +the Hathors had destined me to nothing but evil, and set upon her so +persistently that at last I was destined to the cloister--we lived here +at Memphis. I owe this misery to my dear mother and it was out of pure +affection that she brought it upon me. You look enquiringly at me--aye, +boy! life will teach you too the lesson that the worst hate that can +be turned against you often entails less harm upon you than blind +tenderness which knows no reason. I learned to read and write, and all +that is usually taught to the priests’ sons, but never to accommodate +myself to my lot, and I never shall.--Well, when my beard grew I +succeeded in escaping and I lived for a time in the world. I have been +even to Rome, to Carthage, and in Syria; but at last I longed to drink +Nile-water once more and I returned to Egypt. Why? Because, fool that I +was, I fancied that bread and water with captivity tasted better in +my own country than cakes and wine with freedom in the land of the +stranger. + +“In my father’s house I found only my mother still living, for my father +had died of grief. Before my flight she had been a tall, fine woman, +when I came home I found her faded and dying. Anxiety for me, a +miserable wretch, had consumed her, said the physician--that was the +hardest thing to bear. When at last the poor, good little woman, who +could so fondly persuade me--a wild scamp--implored me on her death-bed +to return to my retreat, I yielded, and swore to her that I would stay +in my prison patiently to the end, for I am as water is in northern +countries, a child may turn me with its little hand or else I am as hard +and as cold as crystal. My old mother died soon after I had taken this +oath. I kept my word as you see--and you have seen too how I endure my +fate.” + +“Patiently enough,” replied Publius, “I should writhe in my chains far +more rebelliously than you, and I fancy it must do you good to rage and +storm sometimes as you did just now.” + +“As much good as sweet wine from Chios!” exclaimed the anchorite, +smacking his lips as if he tasted the noble juice of the grape, and +stretching his matted head as far as possible out of the window. Thus it +happened that he saw Irene, and called out to her in a cheery voice: + +“What are you doing there, child? You are standing as if you were +waiting to say good-morning to good fortune.” + +The girl hastily took up the trencher, smoothed down her hair with her +other hand, and as she approached the men, coloring slightly, Publius +feasted his eyes on her in surprise and admiration. + +But Serapion’s words had been heard by another person, who now emerged +from the acacia-grove and joined the young Roman, exclaiming before he +came up with them: + +“Waiting for good fortune! does the old man say? And you can hear it +said, Publius, and not reply that she herself must bring good fortune +wherever she appears.” + +The speaker was a young Greek, dressed with extreme care, and he now +stuck the pomegranate-blossom he carried in his hand behind his ear, +so as to shake hands with his friend Publius; then he turned his fair, +saucy, almost girlish face with its finely-cut features up to the +recluse, wishing to attract his attention to himself by his next speech. + +“With Plato’s greeting ‘to deal fairly and honestly’ do I approach you!” + he cried; and then he went on more quietly: “But indeed you can hardly +need such a warning, for you belong to those who know how to conquer +true--that is the inner--freedom; for who can be freer than he who needs +nothing? And as none can be nobler than the freest of the free, accept +the tribute of my respect, and scorn not the greeting of Lysias of +Corinth, who, like Alexander, would fain exchange lots with you, the +Diogenes of Egypt, if it were vouchsafed to him always to see out the +window of your mansion--otherwise not very desirable--the charming form +of this damsel--” + +“That is enough, young man,” said Serapion, interrupting the Greek’s +flow of words. “This young girl belongs to the temple, and any one who +is tempted to speak to her as if she were a flute-player will have to +deal with me, her protector. Yes, with me; and your friend here will +bear me witness that it may not be altogether to your advantage to have +a quarrel with such as I. Now, step back, young gentlemen, and let the +girl tell me what she needs.” + +When Irene stood face to face with the anchorite, and had told him +quickly and in a low voice what she had done, and that her sister Klea +was even now waiting for her return, Serapion laughed aloud, and then +said in a low tone, but gaily, as a father teases his daughter: + +“She has eaten enough for two, and here she stands, on her tiptoes, +reaching up to my window, as if it were not an over-fed girl that stood +in her garments, but some airy sprite. We may laugh, but Klea, poor +thing, she must be hungry?” + +Irene made no reply, but she stood taller on tiptoe than ever, put her +face up to Serapion, nodding her pretty head at him again and again, and +as she looked roguishly and yet imploringly into his eyes Serapion went +on: + +“And so I am to give my breakfast to Klea, that is what you want; but +unfortunately that breakfast is a thing of the past and beyond recall; +nothing is left of it but the date-stones. But there, on the trencher in +your hand, is a nice little meal.” + +“That is the offering to Serapis sent by old Phibis,” answered the girl. + +“Hm, hm--oh! of course!” muttered the old man. “So long as it is for a +god--surely he might do without it better than a poor famishing girl.” + +Then he went on, gravely and emphatically, as a teacher who has made an +incautious speech before his pupils endeavors to rectify it by another +of more solemn import. + +“Certainly, things given into our charge should never be touched; +besides, the gods first and man afterwards. Now if only I knew what +to do. But, by the soul of my father! Serapis himself sends us what we +need. Step close up to me, noble Scipio--or Publius, if I may so call +you--and look out towards the acacias. Do you see my favorite, your +cicerone, and the bread and roast fowls that your slave has brought him +in that leathern wallet? And now he is setting a wine-jar on the carpet +he has spread at the big feet of Eulaeus--they will be calling you to +share the meal in a minute, but I know of a pretty child who is very +hungry--for a little white cat stole away her breakfast this morning. +Bring me half a loaf and the wing of a fowl, and a few pomegranates if +you like, or one of the peaches Eulaeus is so judiciously fingering. +Nay--you may bring two of them, I have a use for both.” + +“Serapion!” exclaimed Irene in mild reproof and looking down at the +ground; but the Greek answered with prompt zeal, “More, much more than +that I can bring you. I hasten--” + +“Stay here,” interrupted Publius with decision, holding him back by the +shoulder. “Serapion’s request was addressed to me, and I prefer to do my +friend’s pleasure in my own person.” + +“Go then,” cried the Greek after Publius as he hurried away. “You will +not allow me even thanks from the sweetest lips in Memphis. Only look, +Serapion, what a hurry he is in. And now poor Eulaeus has to get up; +a hippopotamus might learn from him how to do so with due awkwardness. +Well! I call that making short work of it--a Roman never asks before he +takes; he has got all he wants and Eulaeus looks after him like a cow +whose calf has been stolen from her; to be sure I myself would rather +eat peaches than see them carried away! Oh if only the people in the +Forum could see him now! Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, own grandson +to the great Africanus, serving like a slave at a feast with a dish in +each hand! Well Publius, what has Rome the all conquering brought home +this time in token of victory?” + +“Sweet peaches and a roast pheasant,” said Cornelius laughing, and he +handed two dishes into the anchorite’s window; “there is enough left +still for the old man.” + +“Thanks, many thanks!” cried Serapion, beckoning to Irene, and he gave +her a golden-yellow cake of wheaten bread, half of the roast bird, +already divided by Eulaeus, and two peaches, and whispered to her: “Klea +may come for the rest herself when these men are gone. Now thank this +kind gentleman and go.” + +For an instant the girl stood transfixed, her face crimson with +confusion and her glistening white teeth set in her nether lip, +speechless, face to face with the young Roman and avoiding the earnest +gaze of his black eyes. Then she collected herself and said: + +“You are very kind. I cannot make any pretty speeches, but I thank you +most kindly.” + +“And your very kind thanks,” replied Publius, “add to the delights of +this delightful morning. I should very much like to possess one of the +violets out of your hair in remembrance of this day--and of you.” + +“Take them all,” exclaimed Irene, hastily taking the bunch from her hair +and holding them out to the Roman; but before he could take them she +drew back her hand and said with an air of importance: + +“The queen has had them in her hand. My sister Klea got them yesterday +in the procession.” + +Scipio’s face grew grave at these words, and he asked with commanding +brevity and sharpness: + +“Has your sister black hair and is she taller than you are, and did she +wear a golden fillet in the procession? Did she give you these flowers? +Yes--do you say? Well then, she had the bunch from me, but although she +accepted them she seems to have taken very little pleasure in them, for +what we value we do not give away--so there they may go, far enough!” + +With these words he flung the flowers over the house and then he went +on: + +“But you, child, you shall be held guiltless of their loss. Give me your +pomegranate-flower, Lysias!” + +“Certainly not,” replied the Greek. “You chose to do pleasure to your +friend Serapion in your own person when you kept me from going to fetch +the peaches, and now I desire to offer this flower to the fair Irene +with my own hand.” + +“Take this flower,” said Publius, turning his back abruptly on the girl, +while Lysias laid the blossom on the trencher in the maiden’s hand; she +felt the rough manners of the young Roman as if she had been touched by +a hard hand; she bowed silently and timidly and then quickly ran home. + +Publius looked thoughtfully after her till Lysias called out to him: + +“What has come over me? Has saucy Eros perchance wandered by mistake +into the temple of gloomy Serapis this morning?” + +“That would not be wise,” interrupted the recluse, “for Cerberus, who +lies at the foot of our God, would soon pluck the fluttering wings of +the airy youngster,” and as he spoke he looked significantly at the +Greek. + +“Aye! if he let himself be caught by the three-headed monster,” laughed +Lysias. “But come away now, Publius; Eulaeus has waited long enough.” + +“You go to him then,” answered the Roman, “I will follow soon; but first +I have a word to say to Serapion.” + +Since Irene’s disappearance, the old man had turned his attention to the +acacia-grove where Eulaeus was still feasting. When the Roman addressed +him he said, shaking his great head with dissatisfaction: + +“Your eyes of course are no worse than mine. Only look at that man +munching and moving his jaws and smacking his lips. By Serapis! you can +tell the nature of a man by watching him eat. You know I sit in my cage +unwillingly enough, but I am thankful for one thing about it, and that +is that it keeps me far from all that such a creature as Eulaeus calls +enjoyment--for such enjoyment, I tell you, degrades a man.” + +“Then you are more of a philosopher than you wish to seem,” replied +Publius. + +“I wish to seem nothing,” answered the anchorite. + +“For it is all the same to me what others think of me. But if a man who +has nothing to do and whose quiet is rarely disturbed, and who thinks +his own thoughts about many things is a philosopher, you may call me +one if you like. If at any time you should need advice you may come +here again, for I like you, and you might be able to do me an important +service.” + +“Only speak,” interrupted the Roman, “I should be glad from my heart to +be of any use to you.” + +“Not now,” said Serapion softly. “But come again when you have +time--without your companions there, of course--at any rate without +Eulaeus, who of all the scoundrels I ever came across is the very worst. +It may be as well to tell you at once that what I might require of you +would concern not myself but the weal or woe of the water-bearers, the +two maidens you have seen and who much need protection.” + +“I came here for my parents’ sake and for Klea’s, and not on your +account,” said Publius frankly. “There is something in her mien and in +her eyes which perhaps may repel others but which attracts me. How came +so admirable a creature in your temple?” + +“When you come again,” replied the recluse, “I will tell you the history +of the sisters and what they owe to Eulaeus. Now go, and understand +me when I say the girls are well guarded. This observation is for the +benefit of the Greek who is but a heedless fellow; but you, when you +know who the girls are, will help me to protect them.” + +“That I would do as it is, with real pleasure,” replied Publius; he took +leave of the recluse and called out to Eulaeus. + +“What a delightful morning it has been!” + +“It would have been pleasanter for me,” replied Eulaeus, “if you had not +deprived me of your company for such a long time.” + +“That is to say,” answered the Roman, “that I have stayed away longer +than I ought.” + +“You behave after the fashion of your race,” said the other bowing low. +“They have kept even kings waiting in their ante-chambers.” + +“But you do not wear a crown,” said Publius evasively. “And if any one +should know how to wait it is an old courtier, who--” + +“When it is at the command of his sovereign,” interrupted Eulaeus, “the +old courtier may submit, even when youngsters choose to treat him with +contempt.” + +“That hits us both,” said Publius, turning to Lysias. “Now you may +answer him, I have heard and said enough.” + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +Irene’s foot was not more susceptible to the chafing of a strap than her +spirit to a rough or an unkind word; the Roman’s words and manner had +hurt her feelings. + +She went towards home with a drooping head and almost crying, but before +she had reached it her eyes fell on the peaches and the roast bird she +was carrying. Her thoughts flew to her sister and how much the famishing +girl would relish so savory a meal; she smiled again, her eyes shone +with pleasure, and she went on her way with a quickened step. It never +once occurred to her that Klea would ask for the violets, or that +the young Roman could be anything more to her sister than any other +stranger. + +She had never had any other companion than Klea, and after work, when +other girls commonly discussed their longings and their agitations and +the pleasures and the torments of love, these two used to get home so +utterly wearied that they wanted nothing but peace and sleep. If they +had sometimes an hour for idle chat Klea ever and again would tell some +story of their old home, and Irene, who even within the solemn walls of +the temple of Serapis sought and found many innocent pleasures, would +listen to her willingly, and interrupt her with questions and with +anecdotes of small events or details which she fancied she remembered +of her early childhood, but which in fact she had first learnt from her +sister, though the force of a lively imagination had made them seem a +part and parcel of her own experience. + +Klea had not observed Irene’s long absence since, as we know, shortly +after her sister had set out, overpowered by hunger and fatigue she had +fallen asleep. Before her nodding head had finally sunk and her drooping +eyelids had closed, her lips now and then puckered and twitched as if +with grief; then her features grew tranquil, her lips parted softly and +a smile gently lighted up her blushing cheeks, as the breath of spring +softly thaws a frozen blossom. This sleeper was certainly not born for +loneliness and privation, but to enjoy and to keep love and happiness. + +It was warm and still, very still in the sisters’ little room. The buzz +of a fly was audible now and again, as it flew round the little oil-cup +Irene had left empty, and now and again the breathing of the sleeper, +coming more and more rapidly. Every trace of fatigue had vanished from +Klea’s countenance, her lips parted and pouted as if for a kiss, her +cheeks glowed, and at last she raised both hands as if to defend herself +and stammered out in her dream, “No, no, certainly not--pray, do not! my +love--” Then her arm fell again by her side, and dropping on the chest +on which she was sitting, the blow woke her. She slowly opened her eyes +with a happy smile; then she raised her long silken lashes till her eyes +were open, and she gazed fixedly on vacancy as though something strange +had met her gaze. Thus she sat for some time without moving; then she +started up, pressed her hand on her brow and eyes, and shuddering as +if she had seen something horrible or were shivering with ague, she +murmured in gasps, while she clenched her teeth: + +“What does this mean? How come I by such thoughts? What demons are these +that make us do and feel things in our dreams which when we are waking +we should drive far, far from our thoughts? I could hate myself, despise +and hate myself for the sake of those dreams since, wretch that I am! +I let him put his arm round me--and no bitter rage--ah! no--something +quite different, something exquisitely sweet, thrilled through my soul.” + +As she spoke, she clenched her fists and pressed them against her +temples; then again her arms dropped languidly into her lap, and shaking +her head she went on in an altered and softened voice: + +“Still-it was only in a dream and--Oh! ye eternal gods--when we are +asleep--well! and what then? Has it come to this; to impure thoughts I +am adding self-deception! No, this dream was sent by no demon, it was +only a distorted reflection of what I felt yesterday and the day before, +and before that even, when the tall stranger looked straight into my +eyes--four times he has done so now--and then--how many hours ago, gave +me the violets. Did I even turn away my face or punish his boldness with +an angry look? Is it not sometimes possible to drive away an enemy with +a glance? I have often succeeded when a man has looked after us; but +yesterday I could not, and I was as wide awake then as I am at this +moment. What does the stranger want with me? What is it he asks with his +penetrating glance, which for days has followed me wherever I turn, and +robs me of peace even in my sleep? Why should I open my eyes--the gates +of the heart--to him? And now the poison poured in through them is +seething there; but I will tear it out, and when Irene comes home I will +tread the violets into the dust, or leave them with her; she will soon +pull them to pieces or leave them to wither miserably--for I will remain +pure-minded, even in my dreams--what have I besides in the world?” + +At these words she broke off her soliloquy, for she heard Irene’s voice, +a sound that must have had a favorable effect on her spirit, for she +paused, and the bitter expression her beautiful features had but just +now worn disappeared as she murmured, drawing a deep breath: + +“I am not utterly bereft and wretched so long as I have her, and can +hear her voice.” + +Irene, on her road home, had given the modest offerings of the anchorite +Phibis into the charge of one of the temple-servants to lay before the +altar of Serapis, and now as she came into the room she hid the platter +with the Roman’s donation behind her, and while still in the doorway, +called out to her sister: + +“Guess now, what have I here?” + +“Bread and dates from Serapion,” replied Klea. + +“Oh, dear no!” cried the other, holding out the plate to her sister, +“the very nicest dainties, fit for gods and kings. Only feel this peach, +does not it feel as soft as one of little Philo’s cheeks? If I could +always provide such a substitute you would wish I might eat up your +breakfast every day. And now do you know who gave you all this? No, that +you will never guess! The tall Roman gave them me, the same you had the +violets from yesterday.” + +Klea’s face turned crimson, and she said shortly and decidedly: + +“How do you know that?” + +“Because he told me so himself,” replied Irene in a very altered tone, +for her sister’s eyes were fixed upon her with an expression of stern +gravity, such as Irene had never seen in her before. + +“And where are the violets?” asked Klea. + +“He took them, and his friend gave me this pomegranate-flower,” + stammered Irene. “He himself wanted to give it me, but the Greek--a +handsome, merry man--would not permit it, and laid the flower there on +the platter. Take it--but do not look at me like that any longer, for I +cannot bear it!” + +“I do not want it,” said her sister, but not sharply; then, looking +down, she asked in a low voice: “Did the Roman keep the violets?” + +“He kept--no, Klea--I will not tell you a lie! He flung them over the +house, and said such rough things as he did it, that I was frightened +and turned my back upon him quickly, for I felt the tears coming into +my eyes. What have you to do with the Roman? I feel so anxious, so +frightened--as I do sometimes when a storm is gathering and I am afraid +of it. And how pale your lips are! that comes of long fasting, no +doubt--eat now, as much as you can. But Klea! why do you look at me +so--and look so gloomy and terrible? I cannot bear that look, I cannot +bear it!” + +Irene sobbed aloud, and her sister went up to her, stroked her soft hair +from her brow, kissed her kindly, and said: + +“I am not angry with you, child, and did not mean to hurt you. If only I +could cry as you do when clouds overshadow my heart, the blue sky would +shine again with me as soon as it does with you. Now dry your eyes, +go up to the temple, and enquire at what hour we are to go to the +singing-practice, and when the procession is to set out.” + +Irene obeyed; she went out with downcast eyes, but once out she looked +up again brightly, for she remembered the procession, and it occurred +to her that she would then see again the Roman’s gay acquaintance, +and turning back into the room she laid her pomegranate-blossom in the +little bowl out of which she had formerly taken the violets, kissed her +sister as gaily as ever, and then reflected as to whether she would wear +the flower in her hair or in her bosom. Wear it, at any rate, she must, +for she must show plainly that she knew how to value such a gift. + +As soon as Klea was alone she seized the trencher with a vehement +gesture, gave the roast bird to the gray cat, who had stolen back into +the room, turning away her head, for the mere smell of the pheasant was +like an insult. Then, while the cat bore off her welcome spoils into +a corner, she clutched a peach and raised her hand to fling it away +through a gap in the roof of the room; but she did not carry out her +purpose, for it occurred to her that Irene and little Philo, the son of +the gate-keeper, might enjoy the luscious fruit; so she laid it back on +the dish and took up the bread, for she was painfully hungry. + +She was on the point of breaking the golden-brown cake, but acting on a +rapid impulse she tossed it back on the trencher saying to herself: “At +any rate I will owe him nothing; but I will not throw away the gifts of +the gods as he threw away my violets, for that would be a sin. All is +over between him and me, and if he appears to-day in the procession, and +if he chooses to look at me again I will compel my eyes to avoid meeting +his--aye, that I will, and will carry it through. But, Oh eternal gods! +and thou above all, great Serapis, whom I heartily serve, there is +another thing I cannot do without your aid. Help me, oh! help me to +forget him, that my very thoughts may remain pure.” + +With these words she flung herself on her knees before the chest, +pressed her brow against the hard wood, and strove to pray. + +Only for one thing did she entreat the gods; for strength to forget the +man who had betrayed her into losing her peace of mind. + +But just as swift clouds float across the sky, distracting the labors +of the star-gazer, who is striving to observe some remote planet--as the +clatter of the street interrupts again and again some sweet song we fain +would hear, marring it with its harsh discords--so again and again the +image of the young Roman came across Klea’s prayers for release from +that very thought, and at last it seemed to her that she was like a +man who strives to raise a block of stone by the exertion of his utmost +strength, and who weary at last of lifting the stone is crushed to the +earth by its weight; still she felt that, in spite of all her prayers +and efforts, the enemy she strove to keep off only came nearer, and +instead of flying from her, overmastered her soul with a grasp from +which she could not escape. + +Finally she gave up the unavailing struggle, cooled her burning face +with cold water, and tightened the straps of her sandals to go to the +temple; near the god himself she hoped she might in some degree recover +the peace she could not find here. + +Just at the door she met Irene, who told her that the singing-practice +was put off, on account of the procession which was fixed for four hours +after noon. And as Klea went towards the temple her sister called after +her. + +“Do not stay too long though, water will be wanted again directly for +the libations.” + +“Then will you go alone to the work?” asked Klea; “there cannot be +very much wanted, for the temple will soon be empty on account of the +procession. A few jars-full will be enough. There is a cake of bread and +a peach in there for you; I must keep the other for little Philo.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +Klea went quickly on towards the temple, without listening to Irene’s +excuses. She paid no heed to the worshippers who filled the forecourt, +praying either with heads bent low or with uplifted arms or, if they +were of Egyptian extraction, kneeling on the smooth stone pavement, for, +even as she entered, she had already begun to turn in supplication to +the divinity. + +She crossed the great hall of the sanctuary, which was open only to +the initiated and to the temple-servants, of whom she was one. Here all +around her stood a crowd of slender columns, their shafts crowned with +gracefully curved flower calyxes, like stems supporting lilies, over +her head she saw in the ceiling an image of the midnight sky with the +bright, unresting and ever-restful stars; the planets and fixed stars +in their golden barks looked down on her silently. Yes! here were the +twilight and stillness befitting a personal communion with the divinity. + +The pillars appeared to her fancy like a forest of giant growth, and it +seemed to her that the perfume of the incense emanated from the gorgeous +floral capitals that crowned them; it penetrated her senses, which +were rendered more acute by fasting and agitation, with a sort of +intoxication. Her eyes were raised to heaven, her arms crossed over +her bosom as she traversed this vast hall, and with trembling steps +approached a smaller and lower chamber, where in the furthest and +darkest background a curtain of heavy and costly material veiled the +brazen door of the holy of holies. + +Even she was forbidden to approach this sacred place; but to-day she was +so filled with longing for the inspiring assistance of the god, that she +went on to the holy of holies in spite of the injunction she had never +yet broken, not to approach it. Filled with reverent awe she sank down +close to the door of the sacred chamber, shrinking close into the angle +formed between a projecting door-post and the wall of the great hall. + +The craving desire to seek and find a power outside us as guiding the +path of our destiny is common to every nation, to every man; it is as +surely innate in every being gifted with reason--many and various as +these are--as the impulse to seek a cause when we perceive an effect, to +see when light visits the earth, or to hear when swelling waves of +sound fall on our ear. Like every other gift, no doubt that of religious +sensibility is bestowed in different degrees on different natures. +In Klea it had always been strongly developed, and a pious mother had +cultivated it by precept and example, while her father always had taught +her one thing only: namely to be true, inexorably true, to others as to +herself. + +Afterwards she had been daily employed in the service of the god whom +she was accustomed to regard as the greatest and most powerful of all +the immortals, for often from a distance she had seen the curtain of the +sanctuary pushed aside, and the statue of Serapis with the Kalathos +on his head, and a figure of Cerberus at his feet, visible in the +half-light of the holy of holies; and a ray of light, flashing through +the darkness as by a miracle, would fall upon his brow and kiss his lips +when his goodness was sung by the priests in hymns of praise. At other +times the tapers by the side of the god would be lighted or extinguished +spontaneously. + +Then, with the other believers, she would glorify the great lord of the +other world, who caused a new sun to succeed each that was extinguished, +and made life grow up out of death; who resuscitated the dead, lifting +them up to be equal with him, if on earth they had reverenced truth and +were found faithful by the judges of the nether world. + +Truth--which her father had taught her to regard as the best possession +of life--was rewarded by Serapis above all other virtues; hearts were +weighed before him in a scale against truth, and whenever Klea tried to +picture the god in human form he wore the grave and mild features of her +father, and she fancied him speaking in the words and tones of the man +to whom she owed her being, who had been too early snatched from her, +who had endured so much for righteousness’ sake, and from whose lips +she had never heard a single word that might not have beseemed the god +himself. And, as she crouched closely in the dark angle by the holy of +holies, she felt herself nearer to her father as well as to the god, and +accused herself pitilessly, in that unmaidenly longings had stirred her +heart, that she had been insincere to herself and Irene, nay in that if +she could not succeed in tearing the image of the Roman from her heart +she would be compelled either to deceive her sister or to sadden the +innocent and careless nature of the impressionable child, whom she +was accustomed to succor and cherish as a mother might. On her, even +apparently light matters weighed oppressively, while Irene could throw +off even grave and serious things, blowing them off as it were into the +air, like a feather. She was like wet clay on which even the light touch +of a butterfly leaves a mark, her sister like a mirror from which the +breath that has dimmed it instantly and entirely vanishes. + +“Great God!” she murmured in her prayer, “I feel as if the Roman had +branded my very soul. Help thou me to efface the mark; help me to +become as I was before, so that I may look again in Irene’s eyes without +concealment, pure and true, and that I may be able to say to myself, +as I was wont, that I had thought and acted in such a way as my father +would approve if he could know it.” + +She was still praying thus when the footsteps and voices of two men +approaching the holy of holies startled her from her devotions; she +suddenly became fully conscious of the fact that she was in a forbidden +spot, and would be severely punished if she were discovered. + +“Lock that door,” cried one of the new-comers to his companion, pointing +to the door which led from the prosekos into the pillared hall, “none, +even of the initiated, need see what you are preparing here for us--” + +Klea recognized the voice of the high-priest, and thought for a moment +of stepping forward and confessing her guilt; but, though she did not +usually lack courage, she did not do this, but shrank still more closely +into her hiding-place, which was perfectly dark when the brazen door of +the room; which had no windows, was closed. She now perceived that the +curtain and door were opened which closed the inmost sanctuary, she +heard one of the men twirling the stick which was to produce fire, saw +the first gleam of light from it streaming out of the holy of holies, +and then heard the blows of a hammer and the grating sound of a file. + +The quiet sanctum was turned into a forge, but noisy as were the +proceedings within, it seemed to Klea that the beating of her own heart +was even louder than the brazen clatter of the tools wielded by Krates; +he was one of the oldest of the priests of Serapis, who was chief in +charge of the sacred vessels, who was wont never to speak to any one +but the high-priest, and who was famous even among his Greek +fellow-countrymen for the skill with which he could repair broken +metal-work, make the securest locks, and work in silver and gold. + +When the sisters first came into the temple five years since, Irene had +been very much afraid of this man, who was so small as almost to be a +dwarf, broad shouldered and powerfully knit, while his wrinkled face +looked like a piece of rough cork-bark, and he was subject to a painful +complaint in his feet which often prevented his walking; her fears had +not vexed but only amused the priestly smith, who whenever he met the +child, then eleven years old, would turn his lips up to his big red +nose, roll his eyes, and grunt hideously to increase the terror that +came over her. + +He was not ill-natured, but he had neither wife nor child, nor brother, +nor sister, nor friend, and every human being so keenly desires that +others should have some feeling about him, that many a one would rather +be feared than remain unheeded. + +After Irene had got over her dread she would often entreat the old +man--who was regarded as stern and inaccessible by all the other +dwellers in the temple--in her own engaging and coaxing way to make a +face for her, and he would do it and laugh when the little one, to his +delight and her own, was terrified at it and ran away; and just lately +when Irene, having hurt her foot, was obliged to keep her room for a +few days, an unheard of thing had occurred: he had asked Klea with the +greatest sympathy how her sister was getting on, and had given her a +cake for her. + +While Krates was at his work not a word passed between him and the +high-priest. At length he laid down the hammer, and said: + +“I do not much like work of this kind, but this, I think, is successful +at any rate. Any temple-servant, hidden here behind the altar, can now +light or extinguish the lamps without the illusion being detected by the +sharpest. Go now and stand at the door of the great hall and speak the +word.” + +Klea heard the high-priest accede to this request and cry in a +chanting voice: “Thus he commands the night and it becomes day, and the +extinguished taper and lo! it flames with brightness. If indeed thou art +nigh, Oh Serapis! manifest thyself to us.” + +At these words a bright stream of light flashed from the holy of holies, +and again was suddenly extinguished when the high-priest sang: “Thus +showest thou thyself as light to the children of truth, but dost punish +with darkness the children of lies.” + +“Again?” asked Krates in a voice which conveyed a desire that the answer +might be ‘No.’ + +“I must trouble you,” replied the high-priest. “Good! the performance +went much better this time. I was always well assured of your skill; but +consider the particular importance of this affair. The two kings and the +queen will probably be present at the solemnity, certainly Philometor +and Cleopatra will, and their eyes are wide open; then the Roman who has +already assisted four times at the procession will accompany them, and +if I judge him rightly he, like many of the nobles of his nation, is +one of those who can trust themselves when it is necessary to be content +with the old gods of their fathers; and as regards the marvels we are +able to display to them, they do not take them to heart like the poor +in spirit, but measure and weigh them with a cool and unbiassed mind. +People of that stamp, who are not ashamed to worship, who do not +philosophize but only think just so much as is necessary for acting +rightly, those are the worst contemners of every supersensual +manifestation.” + +“And the students of nature in the Museum?” asked Krates. “They believe +nothing to be real that they cannot see and observe.” + +“And for that very reason,” replied the high-priest, “they are often +singularly easy to deceive by your skill, since, seeing an effect +without a cause, they are inclined to regard the invisible cause as +something supersensual. Now, open the door again and let us get out by +the side door; do you, this time, undertake the task of cooperating with +Serapis yourself. Consider that Philometor will not confirm the +donation of the land unless he quits the temple deeply penetrated by the +greatness of our god. Would it be possible, do you think, to have the +new censer ready in time for the birthday of King Euergetes, which is to +be solemnly kept at Memphis?” + +“We will see,” replied Krates, “I must first put together the lock +of the great door of the tomb of Apis, for so long as I have it in my +workshop any one can open it who sticks a nail into the hole above the +bar, and any one can shut it inside who pushes the iron bolt. Send to +call me before the performance with the lights begins; I will come in +spite of my wretched feet. As I have undertaken the thing I will carry +it out, but for no other reason, for it is my opinion that even without +such means of deception--” + +“We use no deception,” interrupted the high-priest, sternly rebuking his +colleague. “We only present to short-sighted mortals the creative power +of the divinity in a form perceptible and intelligible to their senses.” + +With these words the tall priest turned his back on the smith and +quitted the hall by a side door; Krates opened the brazen door, and as +he gathered together his tools he said to himself, but loud enough for +Klea to hear him distinctly in her hiding-place: + +“It may be right for me, but deceit is deceit, whether a god deceives a +king or a child deceives a beggar.” + +“Deceit is deceit,” repeated Klea after the smith when he had left the +hall and she had emerged from her corner. + +She stood still for a moment and looked round her. For the first time +she observed the shabby colors on the walls, the damage the pillars had +sustained in the course of years, and the loose slabs in the pavement. + +The sweetness of the incense sickened her, and as she passed by an old +man who threw up his arms in fervent supplication, she looked at him +with a glance of compassion. + +When she had passed out beyond the pylons enclosing the temple she +turned round, shaking her head in a puzzled way as she gazed at it; for +she knew that not a stone had been changed within the last hour, and yet +it looked as strange in her eyes as some landscape with which we have +become familiar in all the beauty of spring, and see once more in winter +with its trees bare of leaves; or like the face of a woman which we +thought beautiful under the veil which hid it, and which, when the veil +is raised, we see to be wrinkled and devoid of charm. + +When she had heard the smith’s words, “Deceit is deceit,” she felt her +heart shrink as from a stab, and could not check the tears which started +to her eyes, unused as they were to weeping; but as soon as she had +repeated the stern verdict with her own lips her tears had ceased, and +now she stood looking at the temple like a traveller who takes leave of +a dear friend; she was excited, she breathed more freely, drew herself +up taller, and then turned her back on the sanctuary of Serapis, proudly +though with a sore heart. + +Close to the gate-keeper’s lodge a child came tottering towards her with +his arms stretched up to her. She lifted him up, kissed him, and then +asked the mother, who also greeted her, for a piece of bread, for her +hunger was becoming intolerable. While she ate the dry morsel the child +sat on her lap, following with his large eyes the motion of her hand and +lips. The boy was about five years old, with legs so feeble that they +could scarcely support the weight of his body, but he had a particularly +sweet little face; certainly it was quite without expression, and it was +only when he saw Klea coming that tiny Philo’s eyes had lighted up with +pleasure. + +“Drink this milk,” said the child’s mother, offering the young girl an +earthen bowl. “There is not much and I could not spare it if Philo would +eat like other children, but it seems as if it hurt him to swallow. He +drinks two or three drops and eats a mouthful, and then will take no +more even if he is beaten.” + +“You have not been beating him again?” said Klea reproachfully, and +drawing the child closer to her. “My husband--” said the woman, pulling +at her dress in some confusion. “The child was born on a good day and +in a lucky hour, and yet he is so puny and weak and will not learn to +speak, and that provokes Pianchi.” + +“He will spoil everything again!” exclaimed Klea annoyed. “Where is he?” + +“He was wanted in the temple.” + +“And is he not pleased that Philo calls him ‘father,’ and you ‘mother,’ +and me by my name, and that he learns to distinguish many things?” asked +the girl. + +“Oh, yes of course,” said the woman. “He says you are teaching him to +speak just as if he were a starling, and we are very much obliged to +you.” + +“That is not what I want,” interrupted Klea. “What I wish is that you +should not punish and scold the boy, and that you should be as glad as +I am when you see his poor little dormant soul slowly waking up. If +he goes on like this, the poor little fellow will be quite sharp and +intelligent. What is my name, my little one?” + +“Ke-ea,” stammered the child, smiling at his friend. “And now taste +this that I have in my hand; what is it?--I see you know. It is +called--whisper in my ear. That’s right, mil--mil-milk! to be sure, my +tiny, it is milk. Now open your little mouth and say it prettily after +me--once more--and again--say it twelve times quite right and I will +give you a kiss--Now you have earned a pretty kiss--will you have it +here or here? Well, and what is this? your ea-? Yes, your ear. And +this?--your nose, that is right.” + +The child’s eyes brightened more and more under this gentle teaching, +and neither Klea nor her pupil were weary till, about an hour later, the +re-echoing sound of a brass gong called her away. As she turned to +go the little one ran after her crying; she took him in her arms and +carried him back to his mother, and then went on to her own room to +dress herself and her sister for the procession. On the way to the +Pastophorium she recalled once more her expedition to the temple and her +prayer there. + +“Even before the sanctuary,” said she to herself, “I could not succeed +in releasing my soul from its burden--it was not till I set to work to +loosen the tongue of the poor little child. Every pure spot, it seems to +me, may be the chosen sanctuary of some divinity, and is not an infant’s +soul purer than the altar where truth is mocked at?” + +In their room she found Irene; she had dressed her hair carefully and +stuck the pomegranate-flower in it, and she asked Klea if she thought +she looked well. + +“You look like Aphrodite herself,” replied Klea kissing her forehead. +Then she arranged the folds of her sister’s dress, fastened on the +ornaments, and proceeded to dress herself. While she was fastening +her sandals Irene asked her, “Why do you sigh so bitterly?” and Klea +replied, “I feel as if I had lost my parents a second time.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +The procession was over. + +At the great service which had been performed before him in the Greek +Serapeum, Ptolemy Philometor had endowed the priests not with the whole +but with a considerable portion of the land concerning which they +had approached him with many petitions. After the court had once more +quitted Memphis and the procession was broken up, the sisters returned +to their room, Irene with crimson cheeks and a smile on her lips, Klea +with a gloomy and almost threatening light in her eyes. + +As the two were going to their room in silence a temple-servant called +to Klea, desiring her to go with him to the high-priest, who wished to +speak to her. Klea, without speaking, gave her water-jar to Irene and +was conducted into a chamber of the temple, which was used for keeping +the sacred vessels in. There she sat down on a bench to wait. The two +men who in the morning had visited the Pastophorium had also followed +in the procession with the royal family. At the close of the solemnities +Publius had parted from his companion without taking leave, and without +looking to the right or to the left, he had hastened back to the +Pastophorium and to the cell of Serapion, the recluse. + +The old man heard from afar the younger man’s footstep, which fell +on the earth with a firmer and more decided tread than that of the +softly-stepping priests of Serapis, and he greeted him warmly with signs +and words. + +Publius thanked him coolly and gravely, and said, dryly enough and with +incisive brevity: + +“My time is limited. I propose shortly to quit Memphis, but I promised +you to hear your request, and in order to keep my word I have come to +see you; still--as I have said--only to keep my word. The water-bearers +of whom you desired to speak to me do not interest me--I care no more +about them than about the swallows flying over the house yonder.” + +“And yet this morning you took a long walk for Klea’s sake,” returned +Serapion. + +“I have often taken a much longer one to shoot a hare,” answered the +Roman. “We men do not pursue our game because the possession of it is +any temptation, but because we love the sport, and there are sporting +natures even among women. Instead of spears or arrows they shoot with +flashing glances, and when they think they have hit their game they +turn their back upon it. Your Klea is one of this sort, while the pretty +little one I saw this morning looks as if she were very ready to be +hunted, I however, no more wish to be the hunter of a young girl than +to be her game. I have still three days to spend in Memphis, and then I +shall turn my back forever on this stupid country.” + +“This morning,” said Serapion, who began to suspect what the grievance +might be which had excited the discontent implied in the Roman’s speech, +“This morning you appeared to be in less hurry to set out than now, so +to me you seem to be in the plight of game trying to escape; however, I +know Klea better than you do. Shooting is no sport of hers, nor will she +let herself be hunted, for she has a characteristic which you, my friend +Publius Scipio, ought to recognize and value above all others--she is +proud, very proud; aye, and so she may be, scornful as you look--as if +you would like to say ‘how came a water-carrier of Serapis by her pride, +a poor creature who is ill-fed and always engaged in service, pride +which is the prescriptive right only of those, whom privilege raises +above the common herd around them?--But this girl, you may take my word +for it, has ample reason to hold her head high, not only because she +is the daughter of free and noble parents and is distinguished by rare +beauty, not because while she was still a child she undertook, with +the devotion and constancy of the best of mothers, the care of another +child--her own sister, but for a reason which, if I judge you rightly, +you will understand better than many another young man; because she +must uphold her pride in order that among the lower servants with whom +unfortunately she is forced to work, she may never forget that she is +a free and noble lady. You can set your pride aside and yet remain what +you are, but if she were to do so and to learn to feel as a servant, +she would presently become in fact what by nature she is not and by +circumstances is compelled to be. A fine horse made to carry burdens +becomes a mere cart-horse as soon as it ceases to hold up its head and +lift its feet freely. Klea is proud because she must be proud; and +if you are just you will not contemn the girl, who perhaps has cast a +kindly glance at you--since the gods have so made you that you cannot +fail to please any woman--and yet who must repel your approaches because +she feels herself above being trifled with, even by one of the Cornelia +gens, and yet too lowly to dare to hope that a man like you should ever +stoop from your height to desire her for a wife. She has vexed you, of +that there can be no doubt; how, I can only guess. If, however, it has +been through her repellent pride, that ought not to hurt you, for +a woman is like a soldier, who only puts on his armor when he is +threatened by an opponent whose weapons he fears.” + +The recluse had rather whispered than spoken these words, remembering +that he had neighbors; and as he ceased the drops stood on his brow, for +whenever any thing disturbed him he was accustomed to allow his powerful +voice to be heard pretty loudly, and it cost him no small effort to +moderate it for so long. + +Publius had at first looked him in the face, and then had gazed at the +ground, and he had heard Serapion to the end without interrupting him; +but the color had flamed in his cheeks as in those of a schoolboy, and +yet he was an independent and resolute youth who knew how to conduct +himself in difficult straits as well as a man in the prime of life. +In all his proceedings he was wont to know very well, exactly what he +wanted, and to do without any fuss or comment whatever he thought right +and fitting. + +During the anchorite’s speech the question had occurred to him, what +did he in fact expect or wish of the water-bearer; but the answer was +wanting, he felt somewhat uncertain of himself, and his uncertainty and +dissatisfaction with himself increased as all that he heard struck him +more and more. He became less and less inclined to let himself be thrown +over by the young girl who for some days had, much against his will, +been constantly in his thoughts, whose image he would gladly have +dismissed from his mind, but who, after the recluse’s speech, seemed +more desirable than ever. “Perhaps you are right,” he replied after +a short silence, and he too lowered his voice, for a subdued tone +generally provokes an equally subdued answer. “You know the maiden +better than I, and if you describe her correctly it would be as well +that I should abide by my decision and fly from Egypt, or, at any rate, +from your protegees, since nothing lies before me but a defeat or a +victory, which could bring me nothing but repentance. Klea avoided my +eye to-day as if it shed poison like a viper’s tooth, and I can have +nothing more to do with her: still, might I be informed how she came +into this temple? and if I can be of any service to her, I will-for your +sake. Tell me now what you know of her and what you wish me to do.” + +The recluse nodded assent and beckoned Publius to come closer to him, +and bowing down to speak into the Roman’s ear, he said softly: “Are you +in favor with the queen?” Publius, having said that he was, Serapion, +with an exclamation of satisfaction, began his story. + +“You learned this morning how I myself came into this cage, and that +my father was overseer of the temple granaries. While I was wandering +abroad he was deposed from his office, and would probably have died in +prison, if a worthy man had not assisted him to save his honor and his +liberty. All this does not concern you, and I may therefore keep it to +myself; but this man was the father of Klea and Irene, and the enemy +by whose instrumentality my father suffered innocently was the villain +Eulaeus. You know--or perhaps indeed you may not know--that the priests +have to pay a certain tribute for the king’s maintenance; you know? To +be sure, you Romans trouble yourselves more about matters of law +and administration than the culture of the arts or the subtleties of +thought. Well, it was my father’s duty to pay these customs over to +Eulaeus, who received them; but the beardless effeminate vermin, +the glutton--may every peach he ever ate or ever is to eat turn to +poison!--kept back half of what was delivered to him, and when the +accountants found nothing but empty air in the king’s stores where +they hoped to find corn and woven goods, they raised an alarm, which of +course came to the ears of the powerful thief at court before it reached +those of my poor father. You called Egypt a marvellous country, or +something like it; and so in truth it is, not merely on account of the +great piles there that you call Pyramids and such like, but because +things happen here which in Rome would be as impossible as moonshine +at mid-day, or a horse with his tail at the end of his nose! Before a +complaint could be laid against Eulaeus he had accused my father of the +peculation, and before the Epistates and the assessor of the district +had even looked at the indictment, their judgment on the falsely accused +man was already recorded, for Eulaeus had simply bought their verdict +just as a man buys a fish or a cabbage in the market. In olden times the +goddess of justice was represented in this country with her eyes shut, +but now she looks round on the world like a squinting woman who winks +at the king with one eye, and glances with the other at the money in +the hand of the accuser or the accused. My poor father was of course +condemned and thrown into prison, where he was beginning to doubt the +justice of the gods, when for his sake the greatest wonder happened, +ever seen in this land of wonders since first the Greeks ruled in +Alexandria. An honorable man undertook without fear of persons the +lost cause of the poor condemned wretch, and never rested till he +had restored him to honor and liberty. But imprisonment, disgrace and +indignation had consumed the strength of the ill-used man as a worm eats +into cedar wood, and he fell into a decline and died. His preserver, +Klea’s father, as the reward of his courageous action fared even worse; +for here by the Nile virtues are punished in this world, as crimes are +with you. Where injustice holds sway frightful things occur, for the +gods seem to take the side of the wicked. Those who do not hope for +a reward in the next world, if they are neither fools nor +philosophers--which often comes to the same thing--try to guard +themselves against any change in this. + +“Philotas, the father of the two girls, whose parents were natives of +Syracuse, was an adherent of the doctrines of Zeno--which have many +supporters among you at Rome too--and he was highly placed as an +official, for he was president of the Chrematistoi, a college of judges +which probably has no parallel out of Egypt, and which has been kept +up better than any other. It travels about from province to province +stopping in the chief towns to administer justice. When an appeal is +brought against the judgment of the court of justice belonging to any +place--over which the Epistates of the district presides--the case is +brought before the Chrematistoi, who are generally strangers alike to +the accuser and accused; by them it is tried over again, and thus +the inhabitants of the provinces are spared the journey to Alexandria +or--since the country has been divided--to Memphis, where, besides, the +supreme court is overburdened with cases. + +“No former president of the Chrematistoi had ever enjoyed a higher +reputation than Philotas. Corruption no more dared approach him than a +sparrow dare go near a falcon, and he was as wise as he was just, for +he was no less deeply versed in the ancient Egyptian law than in that of +the Greeks, and many a corrupt judge reconsidered matters as soon as it +became known that he was travelling with the Chrematistoi, and passed a +just instead of an unjust sentence. + +“Cleopatra, the widow of Epiphanes, while she was living and acting as +guardian of her sons Philometor and Euergetes--who now reign in Memphis +and Alexandria--held Philotas in the highest esteem and conferred on +him the rank of ‘relation to the king’; but she was just dead when this +worthy man took my father’s cause in hand, and procured his release from +prison. + +“The scoundrel Eulaeus and his accomplice Lenaeus then stood at the +height of power, for the young king, who was not yet of age, let himself +be led by them like a child by his nurse. + +“Now as my father was an honest man, no one but Eulaeus could be the +rascal, and as the Chrematistoi threatened to call him before their +tribunal the miserable creature stirred up the war in Caelo-Syria +against Antiochus Epiphanes, the king’s uncle. + +“You know how disgraceful for us was the course of that enterprise, +how Philometor was defeated near Pelusium, and by the advice of Eulaeus +escaped with his treasure to Samothrace, how Philometor’s brother +Euergetes was set up as king in Alexandria, how Antiochus took Memphis, +and then allowed his elder nephew to continue to reign here as though he +were his vassal and ward. + +“It was during this period of humiliation, that Eulaeus was able to +evade Philotas, whom he may very well have feared, as though his own +conscience walked the earth on two legs in the person of the judge, with +the sword of justice in his hand, and telling all men what a scoundrel +he was. + +“Memphis had opened her gates to Antiochus without offering much +resistance, and the Syrian king, who was a strange man and was fond of +mixing among the people as if he himself were a common man, applied to +Philotas, who was as familiar with Egyptian manners and customs as with +those of Greece, in order that he might conduct him into the halls of +justice and into the market-places; and he made him presents as was his +way, sometimes of mere rubbish and sometimes of princely gifts. + +“Then when Philometor was freed by the Romans from the protection of the +Syrian king, and could govern in Memphis as an independent sovereign, +Eulaeus accused the father of these two girls of having betrayed Memphis +into the hands of Antiochus, and never rested till the innocent man was +deprived of his wealth, which was considerable, and sent with his wife +to forced labor in the gold mines of Ethiopia. + +“When all this occurred I had already returned to my cage here; but +I heard from my brother Glaucus--who was captain of the watch in the +palace, and who learned a good many things before other people did--what +was going on out there, and I succeeded in having the daughters of +Philotas secretly brought to this temple, and preserved from sharing +their parents’ fate. That is now five years ago, and now you know how it +happens, that the daughters of a man of rank carry water for the altar +of Serapis, and that I would rather an injury should be done to me than +to them, and that I would rather see Eulaeus eating some poisonous root +than fragrant peaches.” + +“And is Philotas still working in the mines?” asked the Roman, clenching +his teeth with rage. + +“Yes, Publius,” replied the anchorite. “A ‘yes’ that it is easy to say, +and it is just as easy too to clench one’s fists in indignation--but +it is hard to imagine the torments that must be endured by a man like +Philotas; and a noble and innocent woman--as beautiful as Hera and +Aphrodite in one--when they are driven to hard and unaccustomed labor +under a burning sun by the lash of the overseer. Perhaps by this time +they have been happy enough to die under their sufferings and their +daughters are already orphans, poor children! No one here but the +high-priest knows precisely who they are, for if Eulaeus were to learn +the truth he would send them after their parents as surely as my name is +Serapion.” + +“Let him try it!” cried Publius, raising his right fist threateningly. + +“Softly, softly, my friend,” said the recluse, “and not now only, but +about everything which you under take in behalf of the sisters, for +a man like Eulaeus hears not only with his own ears but with those of +thousand others, and almost everything that occurs at court has to go +through his hands as epistolographer. You say the queen is well-disposed +towards you. That is worth a great deal, for her husband is said to be +guided by her will, and such a thing as Eulaeus cannot seem particularly +estimable in Cleopatra’s eyes if princesses are like other women--and I +know them well.” + +“And even if he were,” interrupted Publius with glowing cheeks, “I would +bring him to ruin all the same, for a man like Philotas must not perish, +and his cause henceforth is my own. Here is my hand upon it; and if I am +happy in having descended from a noble race it is above all because the +word of a son of the Cornelii is as good as the accomplished deed of any +other man.” + +The recluse grasped the right hand the young man gave him and nodded +to him affectionately, his eyes radiant, though moistened with joyful +emotion. Then he hastily turned his back on the young man, and soon +reappeared with a large papyrus-roll in his hand. “Take this,” he said, +handing it to the Roman, “I have here set forth all that I have told +you, fully and truly with my own hand in the form of a petition. Such +matters, as I very well know, are never regularly conducted to an +issue at court unless they are set forth in writing. If the queen seems +disposed to grant you a wish give her this roll, and entreat her for a +letter of pardon. If you can effect this, all is won.” + +Publius took the roll, and once more gave his hand to the anchorite, +who, forgetting himself for a moment, shouted out in his loud voice: + +“May the gods bless thee, and by thy means work the release of the +noblest of men from his sufferings! I had quite ceased to hope, but if +you come to our aid all is not yet wholly lost.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +“Pardon me if I disturb you.” + +With these words the anchorite’s final speech was interrupted by +Eulaeus, who had come in to the Pastophorium softly and unobserved, and +who now bowed respectfully to Publius. + +“May I be permitted to enquire on what compact one of the noblest of the +sons of Rome is joining hands with this singular personage?” + +“You are free to ask,” replied Publius shortly and drily, “but every one +is not disposed to answer, and on the present occasion I am not. I will +bid you farewell, Serapion, but not for long I believe.” + +“Am I permitted to accompany you?” asked Eulaeus. + +“You have followed me without any permission on my part.” + +“I did so by order of the king, and am only fulfilling his commands in +offering you my escort now.” + +“I shall go on, and I cannot prevent your following me.” + +“But I beg of you,” said Eulaeus, “to consider that it would ill-become +me to walk behind you like a servant.” + +“I respect the wishes of my host, the king, who commanded you to follow +me,” answered the Roman. “At the door of the temple however you can get +into your chariot, and I into mine; an old courtier must be ready to +carry out the orders of his superior.” + +“And does carry them out,” answered Eulaeus with deference, but his eyes +twinkled--as the forked tongue of a serpent is rapidly put out and still +more rapidly withdrawn--with a flash first of threatening hatred, and +then another of deep suspicion cast at the roll the Roman held in his +hand. + +Publius heeded not this glance, but walked quickly towards the +acacia-grove; the recluse looked after the ill-matched pair, and as he +watched the burly Eulaeus following the young man, he put both his hands +on his hips, puffed out his fat cheeks, and burst into loud laughter as +soon as the couple had vanished behind the acacias. + +When once Serapion’s midriff was fairly tickled it was hard to reduce it +to calm again, and he was still laughing when Klea appeared in front of +his cell some few minutes after the departure of the Roman. He was about +to receive his young friend with a cheerful greeting, but, glancing at +her face, he cried anxiously; + +“You look as if you had met with a ghost; your lips are pale instead +of red, and there are dark shades round your eyes. What has happened to +you, child? Irene went with you to the procession, that I know. Have you +had bad news of your parents? You shake your head. Come, child, perhaps +you are thinking of some one more than you ought; how the color rises +in your cheeks! Certainly handsome Publius, the Roman, must have looked +into your eyes--a splendid youth is he--a fine young man--a capital good +fellow--” + +“Say no more on that subject,” Klea exclaimed, interrupting her friend +and protector, and waving her hand in the air as if to cut off the other +half of Serapion’s speech. “I can hear nothing more about him.” + +“Has he addressed you unbecomingly?” asked the recluse. + +“Yes!” said Klea, turning crimson, and with a vehemence quite foreign +to her usual gentle demeanor, “yes, he persecutes me incessantly with +challenging looks.” + +“Only with looks?” said the anchorite. “But we may look even at the +glorious sun and at the lovely flowers as much as we please, and they +are not offended.” + +“The sun is too high and the soulless flowers too humble for a man to +hurt them,” replied Klea. “But the Roman is neither higher nor lower +than I, the eye speaks as plain a language as the tongue, and what his +eyes demand of me brings the blood to my cheeks and stirs my indignation +even now when I only think of it.” + +“And that is why you avoid his gaze so carefully?” + +“Who told you that?” + +“Publius himself; and because he is wounded by your hard-heartedness he +meant to quit Egypt; but I have persuaded him to remain, for if there is +a mortal living from whom I expect any good for you and yours--” + +“It is certainly not he,” said Klea positively. “You are a man, and +perhaps you now think that so long as you were young and free to wander +about the world you would not have acted differently from him--it is +a man’s privilege; but if you could look into my soul or feel with the +heart of a woman, you would think differently. Like the sand of the +desert which is blown over the meadows and turns all the fresh verdure +to a hideous brown-like a storm that transforms the blue mirror of the +sea into a crisped chaos of black whirl pools and foaming ferment, this +man’s imperious audacity has cruelly troubled my peace of heart. Four +times his eyes pursued me in the processions; yesterday I still did not +recognize my danger, but to-day--I must tell you, for you are like a +father to me, and who else in the world can I confide in?--to-day I was +able to avoid his gaze, and yet all through long endless hours of the +festival I felt his eyes constantly seeking mine. I should have been +certain I was under no delusion, even if Publius Scipio--but what +business has his name on my lips?--even if the Roman had not boasted to +you of his attacks on a defenceless girl. And to think that you, you of +all others, should have become his ally! But you would not, no indeed +you would not, if you knew how I felt at the procession while I was +looking down at the ground, and knew that his very look desecrated me +like the rain that washed all the blossoms off the young vine-shoots +last year. It was just as if he were drawing a net round my heart--but, +oh! what a net! It was as if the flax on a distaff had been set on fire, +and the flames spun out into thin threads, and the meshes knotted of the +fiery yarn. I felt every thread and knot burning into my soul, and could +not cast it off nor even defend myself. Aye! you may look grieved and +shake your head, but so it was, and the scars hurt me still with a pain +I cannot utter.” + +“But Klea,” interrupted Serapion, “you are quite beside yourself--like +one possessed. Go to the temple and pray, or, if that is of no avail, go +to Asclepios or Anubis and have the demon cast out.” + +“I need none of your gods!” answered the girl in great agitation. “Oh! +I wish you had left me to my fate, and that we had shared the lot of +our parents, for what threatens us here is more frightful than having +to sift gold-dust in the scorching sun, or to crush quartz in mortars. +I did not come to you to speak about the Roman, but to tell you what the +high-priest had just disclosed to me since the procession ended.” + +“Well?” asked Serapion eager and almost frightened, stretching out his +neck to put his head near to the girl’s, and opening his eyes so wide +that the loose skin below them almost disappeared. + +“First he told me,” replied Klea, “how meagrely the revenues of the +temple are supplied--” + +“That is quite true,” interrupted the anchorite, “for Antiochus carried +off the best part of its treasure; and the crown, which always used to +have money to spare for the sanctuaries of Egypt, now loads our estates +with heavy tribute; but you, as it seems to me, were kept scantily +enough, worse than meanly, for, as I know--since it passed through my +hands--a sum was paid to the temple for your maintenance which would +have sufficed to keep ten hungry sailors, not speak of two little +pecking birds like you, and besides that you do hard service without +any pay. Indeed it would be a more profitable speculation to steal a +beggar’s rags than to rob you! Well, what did the high-priest want?” + +“He says that we have been fed and protected by the priesthood for five +years, that now some danger threatens the temple on our account, and +that we must either quit the sanctuary or else make up our minds to take +the place of the twin-sisters Arsinoe and Doris who have hitherto been +employed in singing the hymns of lamentation, as Isis and Nephthys, by +the bier of the deceased god on the occasion of the festivals of the +dead, and in pouring out the libations with wailing and outcries when +the bodies were brought into the temple to be blessed. These maidens, +Asclepiodorus says, are now too old and ugly for these duties, but +the temple is bound to maintain them all their lives. The funds of the +temple are insufficient to support two more serving maidens besides them +and us, and so Arsinoe and Doris are only to pour out the libations for +the future, and we are to sing the laments, and do the wailing.” + +“But you are not twins!” cried Serapion. “And none but twins--so say the +ordinances--may mourn for Osiris as Isis and Neplithys.” + +“They will make twins of us!” said Klea with a scornful turn of her +lip. “Irene’s hair is to be dyed black like mine, and the soles of her +sandals are to be made thicker to make her as tall as I am.” + +“They would hardly succeed in making you smaller than you are, and it is +easier to make light hair dark than dark hair light,” said Serapion +with hardly suppressed rage. “And what answer did you give to these +exceedingly original proposals?” + +“The only one I could very well give. I said no--but I declared myself +ready, not from fear, but because we owe much to the temple, to perform +any other service with Irene, only not this one.” + +“And Asclepiodorus?” + +“He said nothing unkind to me, and preserved his calm and polite +demeanor when I contradicted him, though he fixed his eyes on me several +times in astonishment as if he had discovered in me something quite new +and strange. At last he went on to remind me how much trouble the +temple singing-master had taken with us, how well my low voice went with +Irene’s high one, how much applause we might gain by a fine performance +of the hymns of lamentation, and how he would be willing, if we +undertook the duties of the twin-sisters, to give us a better dwelling +and more abundant food. I believe he has been trying to make us amenable +by supplying us badly with food, just as falcons are trained by hunger. +Perhaps I am doing him an injustice, but I feel only too much disposed +to-day to think the worst of him and of the other fathers. Be that as +it may; at any rate he made me no further answer when I persisted in my +refusal, but dismissed me with an injunction to present myself before +him again in three days’ time, and then to inform him definitively +whether I would conform to his wishes, or if I proposed to leave the +temple. I bowed and went towards the door, and was already on the +threshold when he called me back once more, and said: ‘Remember your +parents and their fate!’ He spoke solemnly, almost threateningly, but +he said no more and hastily turned his back on me. What could he mean +to convey by this warning? Every day and every hour I think of my father +and mother, and keep Irene in mind of them.” + +The recluse at these words sat muttering thoughtfully to himself for a +few minutes with a discontented air; then he said gravely: + +“Asclepiodorus meant more by his speech than you think. Every sentence +with which he dismisses a refractory subordinate is a nut of which the +shell must be cracked in order to get at the kernel. When he tells you +to remember your parents and their sad fate, such words from his lips, +and under the present circumstances, can hardly mean anything else than +this: that you should not forget how easily your father’s fate might +overtake you also, if once you withdrew yourselves from the protection +of the temple. It was not for nothing that Asclepiodorus--as +you yourself told me quite lately, not more than a week ago I am +sure--reminded you how often those condemned to forced labor in the +mines had their relations sent after them. Ah! child, the words of +Asclepiodorus have a sinister meaning. The calmness and pride, with +which you look at me make me fear for you, and yet, as you know, I am +not one of the timid and tremulous. Certainly what they propose to you +is repulsive enough, but submit to it; it is to be hoped it will not be +for long. Do it for my sake and for that of poor Irene, for though you +might know how to assert your dignity and take care of yourself outside +these walls in the rough and greedy world, little Irene never could. And +besides, Klea, my sweetheart, we have now found some one, who makes +your concerns his, and who is great and powerful--but oh! what are +three clays? To think of seeing you turned out--and then that you may be +driven with a dissolute herd in a filthy boat down to the burning south, +and dragged to work which kills first the soul and then the body! No, it +is not possible! You will never let this happen to me--and to yourself +and Irene; no, my darling, no, my pet, my sweetheart, you cannot, you +will not do so. Are you not my children, my daughters, my only joy? and +you, would you go away, and leave me alone in my cage, all because you +are so proud!” + +The strong man’s voice failed him, and heavy drops fell from his eyes +one after another down his beard, and on to Klea’s arm, which he had +grasped with both hands. + +The girl’s eyes too were dim with a mist of warm tears when she saw her +rough friend weeping, but she remained firm and said, as she tried to +free her hand from his: + +“You know very well, father Serapion, that there is much to tie me to +this temple; my sister, and you, and the door-keeper’s child, little +Philo. It would be cruel, dreadful to have to leave you; but I would +rather endure that and every other grief than allow Irene to take the +place of Arsinoe or the black Doris as wailing woman. Think of that +bright child, painted and kneeling at the foot of a bier and groaning +and wailing in mock sorrow! She would become a living lie in human form, +an object of loathing to herself, and to me--who stand in the place of a +mother to her--from morning till night a martyrizing reproach! But what +do I care about myself--I would disguise myself as the goddess without +even making a wry face, and be led to the bier, and wail and groan so +that every hearer would be cut to the heart, for my soul is already +possessed by sorrow; it is like the eyes of a man, who has gone blind +from the constant flow of salt tears. Perhaps singing the hymns of +lamentation might relieve my soul, which is as full of sorrow as an +overbrimming cup; but I would rather that a cloud should for ever darken +the sun, that mists should hide every star from my eyes, and the air +I breathe be poisoned by black smoke than disguise her identity, +and darken her soul, or let her clear laugh be turned to shrieks of +lamentation, and her fresh and childlike spirit be buried in gloomy +mourning. Sooner will I go way with her and leave even you, to perish +with my parents in misery and anguish than see that happen, or suffer it +for a moment.” + +As she spoke Serapion covered his face with his hands, and Klea, hastily +turning away from him, with a deep sigh returned to her room. + +Irene was accustomed when she heard her step to hasten to meet her, +but to-day no one came to welcome her, and in their room, which was +beginning to be dark as twilight fell, she did not immediately catch +sight of her sister, for she was sitting all in a heap in a corner of +the room, her face hidden, in her hands and weeping quietly. + +“What is the matter?” asked Klea, going tenderly up to the weeping +child, over whom she bent, endeavoring to raise her. + +“Leave me,” said Irene sobbing; she turned away from her sister with an +impatient gesture, repelling her caress like a perverse child; and then, +when Klea tried to soothe her by affectionately stroking her hair, she +sprang up passionately exclaiming through her tears: + +“I could not help crying--and, from this hour, I must always have to +cry. The Corinthian Lysias spoke to me so kindly after the procession, +and you--you don’t care about me at all and leave me alone all this time +in this nasty dusty hole! I declare I will not endure it any longer, +and if you try to keep me shut up, I will run away from this temple, for +outside it is all bright and pleasant, and here it is dingy and horrid!” + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +In the very midst of the white wall with its bastions and ramparts, +which formed the fortifications of Memphis, stood the old palace of the +kings, a stately structure built of bricks, recently plastered, and with +courts, corridors, chambers and halls without number, and veranda-like +out-buildings of gayly-painted wood, and a magnificent pillared +banqueting-hall in the Greek style. It was surrounded by verdurous +gardens, and a whole host of laborers tended the flower-beds and shady +alleys, the shrubs and the trees; kept the tanks clean and fed the fish +in them; guarded the beast-garden, in which quadrupeds of every kind, +from the heavy-treading elephant to the light-footed antelope, were to +be seen, associated with birds innumerable of every country and climate. + +A light white vapor rose from the splendidly fitted bath-house, loud +barkings resounded from the dog-kennels, and from the long array of open +stables came the neighing of horses with the clatter and stamp of hoofs, +and the rattle of harness and chains. A semicircular building of new +construction adjoining the old palace was the theatre, and many large +tents for the bodyguard, for ambassadors and scribes, as well as others, +serving as banqueting-halls for the various court-officials, stood both +within the garden and outside its enclosing walls. A large space leading +from the city itself to the royal citadel was given up to the soldiers, +and there, by the side of the shady court-yards, were the houses of the +police-guard and the prisons. Other soldiers were quartered in tents +close to the walls of the palace itself. The clatter of their arms and +the words of command, given in Greek, by their captain, sounded out at +this particular instant, and up into the part of the buildings occupied +by the queen; and her apartments were high up, for in summer time +Cleopatra preferred to live in airy tents, which stood among the +broad-leaved trees of the south and whole groves of flowering shrubs, +on the level roof of the palace, which was also lavishly decorated with +marble statues. There was only one way of access to this retreat, +which was fitted up with regal splendor; day and night it was fanned by +currents of soft air, and no one could penetrate uninvited to disturb +the queen’s retirement, for veteran guards watched at the foot of the +broad stair that led to the roof, chosen from the Macedonian “Garde +noble,” and owing as implicit obedience to Cleopatra as to the king +himself. This select corps was now, at sunset, relieving guard, and the +queen could hear the words spoken by the officers in command and +the clatter of the shields against the swords as they rattled on the +pavement, for she had come out of her tent into the open air, and stood +gazing towards the west, where the glorious hues of the sinking sun +flooded the bare, yellow limestone range of the Libyan hills, with +their innumerable tombs and the separate groups of pyramids; while the +wonderful coloring gradually tinged with rose-color the light silvery +clouds that hovered in the clear sky over the valley of Memphis, and +edged them as with a rile of living gold. + +The queen stepped out of her tent, accompanied by a young Greek +girl--the fair Zoe, daughter of her master of the hunt Zenodotus, and +Cleopatra’s favorite lady-in-waiting--but though she looked towards the +west, she stood unmoved by the magic of the glorious scene before her; +she screened her eyes with her hand to shade them from the blinding +rays, and said: + +“Where can Cornelius be staying! When we mounted our chariots before the +temple he had vanished, and as far as I can see the road in the quarters +of Sokari and Serapis I cannot discover his vehicle, nor that of Eulaeus +who was to accompany him. It is not very polite of him to go off in this +way without taking leave; nay, I could call it ungrateful, since I had +proposed to tell him on our way home all about my brother Euergetes, who +has arrived to-day with his friends. They are not yet acquainted, for +Euergetes was living in Cyrene when Publius Cornelius Scipio landed in +Alexandria. Stay! do you see a black shadow out there by the vineyard +at Kakem; That is very likely he; but no--you are right, it is only some +birds, flying in a close mass above the road. Can you see nothing more? +No!--and yet we both have sharp young eyes. I am very curious to know +whether Publius Scipio will like Euergetes. There can hardly be two +beings more unlike, and yet they have some very essential points in +common.” + +“They are both men,” interrupted Zoe, looking at the queen as if she +expected cordial assent to this proposition. + +“So they are,” said Cleopatra proudly. “My brother is still so young +that, if he were not a king’s son, he would hardly have outgrown the +stage of boyhood, and would be a lad among other Epheboi,--[Youths above +18 were so called]--and yet among the oldest there is hardly a man who +is his superior in strength of will and determined energy. Already, +before I married Philometor, he had clutched Alexandria and Cyrene, +which by right should belong to my husband, who is the eldest of us +three, and that was not very brotherly conduct--and indeed we had other +grounds for being angry with him; but when I saw him again for the first +time after nine months of separation I was obliged to forget them all, +and welcome him as though he had done nothing but good to me and his +brother--who is my husband, as is the custom of the families of Pharaohs +and the usage of our race. He is a young Titan, and no one would be +astonished if he one day succeeded in piling Pelion upon Ossa. I know +well enough how wild he can often be, how unbridled and recalcitrant +beyond all bounds; but I can easily pardon him, for the same bold blood +flows in my own veins, and at the root of all his excesses lies power, +genuine and vigorous power. And this innate pith and power are just the +very thing we most admire in men, for it is the one gift which the gods +have dealt out to us with a less liberal hand than to men. Life indeed +generally dams its overflowing current, but I doubt whether this will be +the case with the stormy torrent of his energy; at any rate men such as +he is rush swiftly onwards, and are strong to the end, which sooner +or later is sure to overtake them; and I infinitely prefer such a wild +torrent to a shallow brook flowing over a plain, which hurts no one, and +which in order to prolong its life loses itself in a misty bog. He, if +any one, may be forgiven for his tumultuous career; for when he pleases +my brother’s great qualities charm old and young alike, and are as +conspicuous and as remarkable as his faults--nay, I will frankly say his +crimes. And who in Greece or Egypt surpasses him in grasp and elevation +of mind?” + +“You may well be proud of him,” replied Zoe. “Not even Publius Scipio +himself can soar to the height reached by Euergetes.” + +“But, on the other hand, Euergetes is not gifted with the steady, calm +self-reliance of Cornelius. The man who should unite in one person the +good qualities of those two, need yield the palm, as it seems to me, not +even to a god!” + +“Among us imperfect mortals he would indeed be the only perfect one,” + replied Zoe. “But the gods could not endure the existence of a perfect +man, for then they would have to undertake the undignified task of +competing with one of their own creatures.” + +“Here, however, comes one whom no one can accuse!” cried the young +queen, as she hastened to meet a richly dressed woman, older than +herself, who came towards her leading her son, a pale child of two +years old. She bent down to the little one, tenderly but with impetuous +eagerness, and was about to clasp him in her arms, but the fragile +child, which at first had smiled at her, was startled; he turned away +from her and tried to hide his little face in the dress of his nurse--a +lady of rank-to whom he clung with both hands. The queen threw herself +on her knees before him, took hold of his shoulder, and partly by +coaxing and partly by insistence strove to induce him to quit the +sheltering gown and to turn to her; but although the lady, his +wet-nurse, seconded her with kind words of encouragement, the terrified +child began to cry, and resisted his mother’s caresses with more and +more vehemence the more passionately she tried to attract and conciliate +him. At last the nurse lifted him up, and was about to hand him to his +mother, but the wilful little boy cried more than before, and throwing +his arms convulsively round his nurse’s neck he broke into loud cries. + +In the midst of this rather unbecoming struggle of the mother against +the child’s obstinacy, the clatter of wheels and of horses’ hoofs rang +through the court-yard of the palace, and hardly had the sound reached +the queen’s ears than she turned away from the screaming child, hurried +to the parapet of the roof, and called out to Zoe: + +“Publius Scipio is here; it is high time that I should dress for the +banquet. Will that naughty child not listen to me at all? Take him away, +Praxinoa, and understand distinctly that I am much dissatisfied with +you. You estrange my own child from me to curry favor with the future +king. That is base, or else it proves that you have no tact, and are +incompetent for the office entrusted to you. The office of wet-nurse you +duly fulfilled, but I shall now look out for another attendant for the +boy. Do not answer me! no tears! I have had enough of that with the +child’s screaming.” With these words, spoken loudly and passionately, +she turned her back on Praxinoa--the wife of a distinguished Macedonian +noble, who stood as if petrified--and retired into her tent, where +branched lamps had just been placed on little tables of elegant +workmanship. Like all the other furniture in the queen’s dressing-tent +these were made of gleaming ivory, standing out in fine relief from the +tent-cloth which was sky-blue woven with silver lilies and ears of corn, +and from the tiger-skins which covered all the cushions, while white +woollen carpets, bordered with a waving scroll in blue, were spread on +the ground. + +The queen threw herself on a seat in front of her dressing-table, and +sat staring at herself in a mirror, as if she now saw her face and her +abundant, reddish-fair hair for the first time; then she said, half +turning to Zoe and half to her favorite Athenian waiting-maid, who stood +behind her with her other women: + +“It was folly to dye my dark hair light; but now it may remain so, for +Publius Scipio, who has no suspicion of our arts, thought this color +pretty and uncommon, and never will know its origin. That Egyptian +headdress with the vulture’s head which the king likes best to see me +in, the young Greek Lysias and the Roman too, call barbaric, and so +every one must call it who is not interested in the Egyptians. But +to-night we are only ourselves, so I will wear the chaplet of golden +corn with sapphire grapes. Do you think, Zoe, that with that I could +wear the dress of transparent bombyx silk that came yesterday from Cos? +But no, I will not wear that, for it is too slight a tissue, it hides +nothing and I am now too thin for it to become me. All the lines in +my throat show, and my elbows are quite sharp--altogether I am much +thinner. That comes of incessant worry, annoyance, and anxiety. How +angry I was yesterday at the council, because my husband will always +give way and agree and try to be pleasant; whenever a refusal is +necessary I have to interfere, unwilling as I am to do it, and odious +as it is to me always to have to stir up discontent, disappointment, and +disaffection, to take things on myself and to be regarded as hard +and heartless in order that my husband may preserve undiminished the +doubtful glory of being the gentlest and kindest of men and princes. My +son’s having a will of his own leads to agitating scenes, but even that +is better than that Philopator should rush into everybody’s arms. The +first thing in bringing up a boy should be to teach him to say ‘no.’ I +often say ‘yes’ myself when I should not, but I am a woman, and yielding +becomes us better than refusal--and what is there of greater importance +to a woman than to do what becomes her best, and to seem beautiful? + +“I will decide on this pale dress, and put over it the net-work of gold +thread with sapphire knots; that will go well with the head-dress. Take +care with your comb, Thais, you are hurting me! Now--I must not chatter +any more. Zoe, give me the roll yonder; I must collect my thoughts a +little before I go down to talk among men at the banquet. When we have +just come from visiting the realm of death and of Serapis, and have +been reminded of the immortality of the soul and of our lot in the next +world, we are glad to read through what the most estimable of human +thinkers has said concerning such things. Begin here, Zoe.” + +Cleopatra’s companion, thus addressed, signed to the unoccupied +waiting-women to withdraw, seated herself on a low cushion opposite the +queen, and began to read with an intelligent and practised intonation; +the reading went on for some time uninterrupted by any sound but the +clink of metal ornaments, the rustle of rich stuffs, the trickle of oils +or perfumes as they were dropped into the crystal bowls, the short +and whispered questions of the women who were attiring the queen, or +Cleopatra’s no less low and rapid answers. + +All the waiting-women not immediately occupied about the queen’s +person--perhaps twenty in all, young and old-ranged themselves along the +sides of the great tent, either standing or sitting on the ground or +on cushions, and awaiting the moment when it should be their turn to +perform some service, as motionless as though spellbound by the mystical +words of a magician. They only made signs to each other with their eyes +and fingers, for they knew that the queen did not choose to be disturbed +when she was being read to, and that she never hesitated to cast aside +anything or anybody that crossed her wishes or inclinations, like a +tight shoe or a broken lutestring. + +Her features were irregular and sharp, her cheekbones too strongly +developed, and the lips, behind which her teeth gleamed pearly +white-though too widely set--were too full; still, so long as she +exerted her great powers of concentration, and listened with flashing +eyes, like those of a prophetess, and parted lips to the words of Plato, +her face had worn an indescribable glow of feeling, which seemed to have +come upon her from a higher and better world, and she had looked far +more beautiful than now when she was fully dressed, and when her women +crowded round leer--Zoe having laid aside the Plato--with loud and +unmeasured flattery. + +Cleopatra delighted in being thus feted, and, in order to enjoy the +adulation of a throng, she would always when dressing have a great +number of women to attend her toilet; mirrors were held up to her on +every side, a fold set right, and the jewelled straps of her sandals +adjusted. + +One praised the abundance of her hair, another the slenderness of her +form, the slimness of her ankles, and the smallness of her tiny +hands and feet. One maiden remarked to another--but loud enough to +be heard--on the brightness of her eyes which were clearer than the +sapphires on her brow, while the Athenian waiting-woman, Thais, declared +that Cleopatra had grown fatter, for her golden belt was less easy to +clasp than it had been ten days previously. + +The queen presently signed to Zoe, who threw a little silver ball into a +bowl of the same metal, elaborately wrought and decorated, and in a few +minutes the tramp of the body-guard was audible outside the door of the +tent. + +Cleopatra went out, casting a rapid glance over the roof--now brightly +illuminated with cressets and torches--and the white marble statues +that gleamed out in relief against the dark clumps of shrubs; and then, +without even looking at the tent where her children were asleep, she +approached the litter, which had been brought up to the roof for her by +the young Macedonian nobles. Zoe and Thais assisted her to mount into +it, and her ladies, waiting-women, and others who had hurried out of +the other tents, formed a row on each side of the way, and hailed their +mistress with loud cries of admiration and delight as she passed by, +lifted high above them all on the shoulders of her bearers. The diamonds +in the handle of her feather-fan sparkled brightly as Cleopatra waved a +gracious adieu to her women, an adieu which did not fail to remind them +how infinitely beneath her were those she greeted. Every movement of +her hand was full of regal pride, and her eyes, unveiled and untempered, +were radiant with a young woman’s pleasure in a perfect toilet, with +satisfaction in her own person, and with the anticipation of the festive +hours before her. + +The litter disappeared behind the door of the broad steps that led up to +the roof, and Thais, sighing softly, said to herself, “If only for once +I could ride through the air in just such a pretty shell of colored and +shining mother-of-pearl, like a goddess! carried aloft by young men, and +hailed and admired by all around me! High up there the growing Selene +floats calmly and silently by the tiny stars, and just so did she +ride past in her purple robe with her torch-bearers and flames +and lights-past us humble creatures, and between the tents to the +banquet--and to what a banquet, and what guests! Everything up here +greets her with rejoicing, and I could almost fancy that among those +still marble statues even the stern face of Zeno had parted its lips, +and spoken flattering words to her. And yet poor little Zoe, and the +fair-haired Lysippa, and the black-haired daughter of Demetrius, and +even I, poor wretch, should be handsomer, far handsomer than she, if we +could dress ourselves with fine clothes and jewels for which kings would +sell their kingdoms; if we could play Aphrodite as she does, and ride +off in a shell borne aloft on emerald-green glass to look as if it were +floating on the waves; if dolphins set with pearls and turquoises served +us for a footstool, and white ostrich-plumes floated over our heads, +like the silvery clouds that float over Athens in the sky of a fine +spring day. The transparent tissue that she dared not put on would well +become me! If only that were true which Zoe was reading yesterday, that +the souls of men were destined to visit the earth again and again in new +forms! Then perhaps mine might some day come into the world in that of +a king’s child. I should not care to be a prince, so much is expected of +him, but a princess indeed! That would be lovely!” + +These and such like were Thais’ dreams, while Zoe stood outside the tent +of the royal children with her cousin, the chief-attendant of prince +Philopator, carrying on an eager conversation in a low tone. The child’s +nurse from time to time dried her eyes and sobbed bitterly as she said: +“My own baby, my other children, my husband and our beautiful house +in Alexandria--I left them all to suckle and rear a prince. I have +sacrificed happiness, freedom, and my nights’-sleep for the sake of the +queen and of this child, and how am I repaid for all this? As if I were +a lowborn wench instead of the daughter and wife of noble men; this +woman, half a child still, scarcely yet nineteen, dismisses me from her +service before you and all her ladies every ten days! And why? Because +the ungoverned blood of her race flows in her son’s veins, and because +he does not rush into the arms of a mother who for days does not ask for +him at all, and never troubles herself about him but in some idle moment +when she has gratified every other whim. Princes distribute favor or +disgrace with justice only so long as they are children. The little one +understands very well what I am to him, and sees what Cleopatra is. If I +could find it in my heart to ill-use him in secret, this mother--who is +not fit to be a mother--would soon have her way. Hard as it would be to +me so soon to leave the poor feeble little child, who has grown as +dear to my soul as my own--aye and closer, even closer, as I may well +say--this time I will do it, even at the risk of Cleopatra’s plunging us +into ruin, my husband and me, as she has done to so many who have dared +to contravene her will.” + +The wet-nurse wept aloud, but Zoe laid her hand on the distressed +woman’s shoulder, and said soothingly: “I know you have more to submit +to from Cleopatra’s humors than any of us all, but do not be overhasty. +Tomorrow she will send you a handsome present, as she so often has done +after being unkind; and though she vexes and hurts you again and again, +she will try to make up for it again and again till, when this year is +over, your attendance on the prince will be at an end, and you can go +home again to your own family. We all have to practise patience; we +live like people dwelling in a ruinous house with to-day a stone and +to-morrow a beam threatening to fall upon our heads. If we each take +calmly whatever befalls us our masters try to heal our wounds, but if +we resist may the gods have mercy on us! for Cleopatra is like a strung +bow, which sets the arrow flying as soon as a child, a mouse, a breath +of air even touches it--like an over-full cup which brims over if a +leaf, another drop, a single tear falls into it. We should, any one of +us, soon be worn out by such a life, but she needs excitement, turmoil +and amusement at every hour. She comes home late from a feast, spends +barely six hours in disturbed slumber, and has hardly rested so long as +it takes a pebble to fall to the ground from a crane’s claw before we +have to dress her again for another meal. From the council-board she +goes to hear some learned discourse, from her books in the temple to +sacrifice and prayer, from the sanctuary to the workshops of artists, +from pictures and statues to the audience-chamber, from a reception +of her subjects and of foreigners to her writing-room, from answering +letters to a procession and worship once more, from the sacred services +back again to her dressing-tent, and there, while she is being attired +she listens to me while I read the most profound works--and how she +listens! not a word escapes her, and her memory retains whole sentences. +Amid all this hurry and scurry her spirit must need be like a limb that +is sore from violent exertion, and that is painfully tender to every +rough touch. We are to her neither more nor less than the wretched flies +which we hit at when they trouble us, and may the gods be merciful to +those on whom this queen’s hand may fall! Euergetes cleaves with the +sword all that comes in his way. Cleopatra stabs with the dagger, and +her hand wields the united power of her own might and of her yielding +husband’s. Do not provoke her. Submit to what you cannot avert; just as +I never complain when, if I make a mistake in reading, she snatches the +book from my hand, or flings it at my feet. But I, of course, have only +myself to fear for, and you have your husband and children as well.” + +Praxinoa bowed her head at these words in sad assent, and said: + +“Thank you for those words! I always think only from my heart, and you +mostly from your head. You are right, this time again there is nothing +for me to do but to be patient; but when I have fulfilled the duties +here, which I undertook, and am at home again, I will offer a great +sacrifice to Asclepias and Hygiea, like a person recovered from a severe +illness; and one thing I know: that I would rather be a poor girl, +grinding at a mill, than change with this rich and adored queen who, in +order to enjoy her life to the utmost, carelessly and restlessly hurries +past all that our mortal lot has best to offer. Terrible, hideous to me +seems such an existence with no rest in it! and the heart of a mother +which is so much occupied with other things that she cannot win the love +of her child, which blossoms for every hired nurse, must be as waste as +the desert! Rather would I endure anything--everything--with patience +than be such a queen!” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +“What! No one to come to meet me?” asked the queen, as she reached the +foot of the last flight of porphyry steps that led into the ante-chamber +to the banqueting-hall, and, looking round, with an ominous glance, at +the chamberlains who had accompanied her, she clinched her small fist. +“I arrive and find no one here!” + +The “No one” certainly was a figure of speech, since more than a hundred +body-guards-Macedonians in rich array of arms-and an equal number of +distinguished court-officials were standing on the marble flags of the +vast hall, which was surrounded by colonnades, while the star-spangled +night-sky was all its roof; and the court-attendants were all men of +rank, dignified by the titles of fathers, brothers, relatives, friends +and chief-friends of the king. + +These all received the queen with a many-voiced “Hail!” but not one of +them seemed worthy of Cleopatra’s notice. This crowd was less to her +than the air we breathe in order to live--a mere obnoxious vapor, a +whirl of dust which the traveller would gladly avoid, but which he must +nevertheless encounter in order to proceed on his way. + +The queen had expected that the few guests, invited by her selection +and that of her brother Euergetes to the evening’s feast, would have +welcomed her here at the steps; she thought they would have seen her--as +she felt herself--like a goddess borne aloft in her shell, and that +she might have exulted in the admiring astonishment of the Roman and of +Lysias, the Corinthian: and now the most critical instant in the part +she meant to play that evening had proved a failure, and it suggested +itself to her mind that she might be borne back to her roof-tent, and be +floated down once more when she was sure of the presence of the company. +But there was one thing she dreaded more even than pain and remorse, +and that was any appearance of the ridiculous; so she only commanded the +bearers to stand still, and while the master of the ceremonies, waiving +his dignity, hurried off to announce to her husband that she was +approaching, she signed to the nobles highest in rank to approach, that +she might address a few gracious words to them, with distant amiability. +Only a few however, for the doors of thyia wood leading into the +banqueting hall itself, presently opened, and the king with his friends +came forward to meet Cleopatra. + +“How were we to expect you so early?” cried Philometor to his wife. + +“Is it really still early?” asked the queen, “or have I only taken you +by surprise, because you had forgotten to expect me?” + +“How unjust you are!” replied the king. “Must you now be told that, come +as early as you will, you always come too late for my desires.” + +“But for ours,” cried Lysias, “neither too early nor too late, but +at the very right time--like returning health and happiness, or the +victor’s crown.” + +“Health as taking the place of sickness?” asked Cleopatra, and her +eyes sparkled keenly and merrily. “I perfectly understand Lysias,” said +Publius, intercepting the Greek. “Once, on the field of Mars, I was +flung from my horse, and had to lie for weeks on my couch, and I know +that there is no more delightful sensation than that of feeling our +departed strength returning as we recover. He means to say that in your +presence we must feel exceptionally well.” + +“Nay rather,” interrupted Lysias, “our queen seems to come to us like +returning health, since so long as she was not in our midst we felt +suffering and sick for longing. Thy presence, Cleopatra, is the most +effectual remedy, and restores us to our lost health.” + +Cleopatra politely lowered her fan, as if in thanks, thus rapidly +turning the stick of it in her hand, so as to make the diamonds that +were set in it sparkle and flash. Then she turned to the friends, and +said: + +“Your words are most amiable, and your different ways of expressing +your meaning remind me of two gems set in a jewel, one of which +sparkles because it is skilfully cut, and reflects every light from its +mirrorlike facets, while the other shines by its genuine and intrinsic +fire. The genuine and the true are one, and the Egyptians have but one +word for both, and your kind speech, my Scipio--but I may surely venture +to call you Publius--your kind speech, my Publius seems to me to be +truer than that of your accomplished friend, which is better adapted to +vainer ears than mine. Pray, give me your hand.” + +The shell in which she was sitting was gently lowered, and, supported +by Publius and her husband, the queen alighted and entered the +banqueting-hall, accompanied by her guests. + +As soon as the curtains were closed, and when Cleopatra had exchanged a +few whispered words with her husband, she turned again to the Roman, who +had just been joined by Eulaeus, and said: + +“You have come from Athens, Publius, but you do not seem to have +followed very closely the courses of logic there, else how could it be +that you, who regard health as the highest good--that you, who declared +that you never felt so well as in my presence--should have quitted me so +promptly after the procession, and in spite of our appointment? May I be +allowed to ask what business--” + +“Our noble friend,” answered Eulaeus, bowing low, but not allowing the +queen to finish her speech, “would seem to have found some particular +charm in the bearded recluses of Serapis, and to be seeking among them +the key-stone of his studies at Athens.” + +“In that he is very right,” said the queen. “For from them he can +learn to direct his attention to that third division of our existence, +concerning which least is taught in Athens--I mean the future--” + +“That is in the hands of the gods,” replied the Roman. “It will come +soon enough, and I did not discuss it with the anchorite. Eulaeus may be +informed that, on the contrary, everything I learned from that singular +man in the Serapeum bore reference to the things of the past.” + +“But how can it be possible,” said Eulaeus, “that any one to whom +Cleopatra had offered her society should think so long of anything else +than the beautiful present?” + +“You indeed have good reason,” retorted Publius quickly, “to enter the +lists in behalf of the present, and never willingly to recall the past.” + +“It was full of anxiety and care,” replied Eulaeus with perfect +self-possession. “That my sovereign lady must know from her illustrious +mother, and from her own experience; and she will also protect me from +the undeserved hatred with which certain powerful enemies seem minded +to pursue me. Permit me, your majesty, not to make my appearance at the +banquet until later. This noble gentleman kept me waiting for hours +in the Serapeum, and the proposals concerning the new building in the +temple of Isis at Philae must be drawn up and engrossed to-day, in order +that they may be brought to-morrow before your royal husband in council +and your illustrious brother Euergetes--” + +“You have leave, interrupted Cleopatra.” + +As soon as Eulaeus had disappeared, the queen went closer up to Publius, +and said: + +“You are annoyed with this man--well, he is not pleasant, but at any +rate he is useful and worthy. May I ask whether you only feel his +personality repugnant to you, or whether actual circumstances have given +rise to your aversion--nay, if I have judged rightly, to a very bitterly +hostile feeling against him?” + +“Both,” replied Publius. “In this unmanly man, from the very first, I +expected to find nothing good, and I now know that, if I erred at all, +it was in his favor. To-morrow I will ask you to spare me an hour when +I can communicate to your majesty something concerning him, but which is +too repulsive and sad to be suitable for telling in an evening devoted +to enjoyment. You need not be inquisitive, for they are matters that +belong to the past, and which concern neither you nor me.” + +The high-steward and the cup-bearer here interrupted this conversation +by calling them to table, and the royal pair were soon reclining with +their guests at the festal board. + +Oriental splendor and Greek elegance were combined in the decorations +of the saloon of moderate size, in which Ptolemy Philometor was wont to +prefer to hold high-festival with a few chosen friends. Like the great +reception-hall and the men’s hall-with its twenty doors and lofty +porphyry columns--in which the king’s guests assembled, it was lighted +from above, since it was only at the sides that the walls--which had +no windows--and a row of graceful alabaster columns with Corinthian +acanthus-capitals supported a narrow roof; the centre of the hall was +quite uncovered. At this hour, when it was blazing with hundreds of +lights, the large opening, which by day admitted the bright sunshine, +was closed over by a gold net-work, decorated with stars and a crescent +moon of rock-crystal, and the meshes were close enough to exclude +the bats and moths which at night always fly to the light. But the +illumination of the king’s banqueting-hall made it almost as light as +day, consisting of numerous lamps with many branches held up by lovely +little figures of children in bronze and marble. Every joint was plainly +visible in the mosaic of the pavement, which represented the reception +of Heracles into Olympus, the feast of the gods, and the astonishment of +the amazed hero at the splendor of the celestial banquet; and hundreds +of torches were reflected in the walls of polished yellow marble, +brought from Hippo Regius; these were inlaid by skilled artists +with costly stones, such as lapis lazuli and malachite, crystals, +blood-stone, jasper, agates and chalcedony, to represent fruit-pieces +and magnificent groups of game or of musical instruments; while the +pilasters were decorated with masks of the tragic and comic Muses, +torches, thyrsi wreathed with ivy and vine, and pan-pipes. These were +wrought in silver and gold, and set with costly marbles, and they stood +out from the marble background like metal work on a leather shield, or +the rich ornamentation on a sword-sheath. The figures of a Dionysiac +procession, forming the frieze, looked down upon the feasters--a fine +relievo that had been designed and modelled for Ptolemy Soter by the +sculptor Bryaxis, and then executed in ivory and gold. + +Everything that met the eye in this hall was splendid, costly, and above +all of a genial aspect, even before Cleopatra had come to the throne; +and she--here as in her own apartments--had added the busts of the +greatest Greek philosophers and poets, from Thales of Miletus down to +Strato, who raised chance to fill the throne of God, and from Hesiod to +Callimachus; she too had placed the tragic mask side by side with the +comic, for at her table--she was wont to say--she desired to see no one +who could not enjoy grave and wise discourse more than eating, drinking, +and laughter. + +Instead of assisting at the banquet, as other ladies used, seated on a +chair or at the foot of her husband’s couch, she reclined on a couch of +her own, behind which stood busts of Sappho the poetess, and Aspasia the +friend of Pericles. + +Though she made no pretensions to be regarded as a philosopher nor +even as a poetess, she asserted her right to be considered a finished +connoisseur in the arts of poetry and music; and if she preferred +reclining to sitting how should she have done otherwise, since she was +fully aware how well it became her to extend herself in a picturesque +attitude on her cushions, and to support her head on her arm as it +rested on the back of her couch; for that arm, though not strictly +speaking beautiful, always displayed the finest specimens of Alexandrian +workmanship in gem-cutting and goldsmiths’ work. + +But, in fact, she selected a reclining posture particularly for the sake +of showing her feet; not a woman in Egypt or Greece had a smaller or +more finely formed foot than she. For this reason her sandals were so +made that when she stood or walked they protected only the soles of +her feet, and her slender white toes with the roseate nails and their +polished white half-moons were left uncovered. + +At the banquet she put off her shoes altogether, as the men did; hiding +her feet at first however, and not displaying them till she thought +the marks left on her tender skin by the straps of the sandals had +completely disappeared. + +Eulaeus was the greatest admirer of these feet; not, as he averred, on +account of their beauty, but because the play of the queen’s toes showed +him exactly what was passing in her mind, when he was quite unable to +detect what was agitating her soul in the expression of her mouth and +eyes, well practised in the arts of dissimulation. + +Nine couches, arranged three and three in a horseshoe, invited the +guests to repose, with their arms of ebony and cushions of dull +olive-green brocade, on which a delicate pattern of gold and silver +seemed just to have been breathed. + +The queen, shrugging her shoulders, and, as it would seem, by no means +agreeably surprised at something, whispered to the chamberlain, who then +indicated to each guest the place he was to occupy. To the right of the +central group reclined the queen, and her husband took his place to +the left; the couch between the royal pair, destined for their brother +Euergetes, remained unoccupied. + +On one of the three couches which formed the right-hand angle with those +of the royal family, Publius found a place next to Cleopatra; opposite +to him, and next the king, was Lysias the Corinthian. Two places next to +him remained vacant, while on the side by the Roman reclined the +brave and prudent Hierax, the friend of Ptolemy Euergetes and his most +faithful follower. + +While the servants strewed the couches with rose leaves, sprinkled +perfumed waters, and placed by the couch of each guest a small +table-made of silver and of a slab of fine, reddish-brown porphyry, +veined with white-the king addressed a pleasant greeting to each guest, +apologizing for the smallness of the number. + +“Eulaeus,” he said, “has been forced to leave us on business, and our +royal brother is still sitting over his books with Aristarchus, who came +with him from Alexandria; but he promised certainly to come.” + +“The fewer we are,” replied Lysias, bowing low, “the more honorable is +the distinction of belonging to so limited a number of your majesty’s +most select associates.” + +“I certainly think we have chosen the best from among the good,” said +the queen. “But even the small number of friends I had invited must have +seemed too large to my brother Euergetes, for he--who is accustomed +to command in other folks’ houses as he does in his own--forbid the +chamberlain to invite our learned friends--among whom Agatharchides, my +brothers’ and my own most worthy tutor, is known to you--as well as our +Jewish friends who were present yesterday at our table, and whom I had +set down on my list. I am very well satisfied however, for I like +the number of the Muses; and perhaps he desired to do you, Publius, +particular honor, since we are assembled here in the Roman fashion. It +is in your honor, and not in his, that we have no music this evening; +you said that you did not particularly like it at a banquet. Euergetes +himself plays the harp admirably. However, it is well that he is late in +coming as usual, for the day after tomorrow is his birthday, and he is +to spend it here with us and not in Alexandria; the priestly delegates +assembled in the Bruchion are to come from thence to Memphis to wish him +joy, and we must endeavor to get up some brilliant festival. You have no +love for Eulaeus, Publius, but he is extremely skilled in such matters, +and I hope he will presently return to give us his advice.” + +“For the morning we will have a grand procession,” cried the king. +“Euergetes delights in a splendid spectacle, and I should be glad to +show him how much pleasure his visit has given us.” + +The king’s fine features wore a most winning expression as he spoke +these words with heart-felt warmth, but his consort said thoughtfully: +“Aye! if only we were in Alexandria--but here, among all the Egyptian +people--” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A loud laugh re-echoing from the marble walls of the state-room +interrupted the queen’s speech; at first she started, but then smiled +with pleasure as she recognized her brother Euergetes, who, pushing +aside the chamberlains, approached the company with an elderly Greek, +who walked by his side. + +“By all the dwellers on Olympus! By the whole rabble of gods and beasts +that live in the temples by the Nile!” cried the new-comer, again +laughing so heartily that not only his fat cheeks but his whole +immensely stout young frame swayed and shook. “By your pretty little +feet, Cleopatra, which could so easily be hidden, and yet are always +to be seen--by all your gentle virtues, Philometor, I believe you are +trying to outdo the great Philadelphus or our Syrian uncle Antiochus, +and to get up a most unique procession; and in my honor! Just so! I +myself will take a part in the wonderful affair, and my sturdy person +shall represent Eros with his quiver and bow. Some Ethiopian dame +must play the part of my mother Aphrodite; she will look the part to +perfection, rising from the white sea-foam with her black skin. And what +do you think of a Pallas with short woolly hair; of the Charities +with broad, flat Ethiopian feet; and an Egyptian, with his shaven head +mirroring the sun, as Phoebus Apollo?” + +With these words the young giant of twenty years threw himself on the +vacant couch between his brother and sister, and, after bowing, not +without dignity, to the Roman, whom his brother named to him, he called +one of the young Macedonians of noble birth who served at the feast as +cup-bearers, had his cup filled once and again and yet a third time, +drinking it off quickly and without setting it down; then he said in +a loud tone, while he pushed his hands through his tossed, light brown +hair, till it stood straight up in the air from his broad temples and +high brow: + +“I must make up for what you have had before I came.--Another cup-full +Diocleides.” + +“Wild boy!” said Cleopatra, holding up her finger at him half in jest +and half in grave warning. “How strange you look!” + +“Like Silenus without the goat’s hoofs,” answered Euergetes. “Hand me a +mirror here, Diocleides; follow the eyes of her majesty the queen, +and you will be sure to find one. There is the thing! And in fact the +picture it shows me does not displease me. I see there a head on which +besides the two crowns of Egypt a third might well find room, and in +which there is so much brains that they might suffice to fill the skulls +of four kings to the brim. I see two vulture’s eyes which are always +keen of sight even when their owner is drunk, and that are in danger +of no peril save from the flesh of these jolly cheeks, which, if they +continue to increase so fast, must presently exclude the light, as the +growth of the wood encloses a piece of money stuck into a rift in a +tree-or as a shutter, when it is pushed to, closes up a window. With +these hands and arms the fellow I see in the mirror there could, at +need, choke a hippopotamus; the chain that is to deck this neck must be +twice as long as that worn by a well-fed Egyptian priest. In this mirror +I see a man, who is moulded out of a sturdy clay, baked out of more +unctuous and solid stuff than other folks; and if the fine creature +there on the bright surface wears a transparent robe, what have you to +say against it, Cleopatra? The Ptolemaic princes must protect the import +trade of Alexandria, that fact was patent even to the great son of +Lagus; and what would become of our commerce with Cos if I did not +purchase the finest bombyx stuffs, since those who sell it make no +profits out of you, the queen--and you cover yourself, like a vestal +virgin, in garments of tapestry. Give me a wreath for my head--aye and +another to that, and new wine in the cup! To the glory of Rome and +to your health, Publius Cornelius Scipio, and to our last critical +conjecture, my Aristarchus--to subtle thinking and deep drinking!” + +“To deep thinking and subtle drinking!” retorted the person thus +addressed, while he raised the cup, looked into the wine with his +twinkling eyes and lifted it slowly to his nose--a long, well-formed and +slightly aquiline nose--and to his thin lips. + +“Oh! Aristarchus,” exclaimed Euergetes, and he frowned. “You please me +better when you clear up the meaning of your poets and historians than +when you criticise the drinking-maxims of a king. Subtle drinking is +mere sipping, and sipping I leave to the bitterns and other birds that +live content among the reeds. Do you understand me? Among reeds, I +say--whether cut for writing, or no.” + +“By subtle drinking,” replied the great critic with perfect +indifference, as he pushed the thin, gray hair from his high brow with +his slender hand. “By subtle drinking I mean the drinking of choice +wine, and did you ever taste anything more delicate than this juice of +the vines of Anthylla that your illustrious brother has set before us? +Your paradoxical axiom commends you at once as a powerful thinker and as +the benevolent giver of the best of drinks.” + +“Happily turned,” exclaimed Cleopatra, clapping her hands, “you here +see, Publius, a proof of the promptness of an Alexandrian tongue.” + +“Yes!” said Euergetes, “if men could go forth to battle with words +instead of spears the masters of the Museum in Alexander’s city, with +Aristarchus at their head, they might rout the united armies of Rome and +Carthage in a couple of hours.” + +“But we are not now in the battle-field but at a peaceful meal,” said +the king, with suave amiability. “You did in fact overhear our secret +Euergetes, and mocked at my faithful Egyptians, in whose place I would +gladly set fair Greeks if only Alexandria still belonged to me instead +of to you.--However, a splendid procession shall not be wanting at your +birthday festival.” + +“And do you really still take pleasure in these eternal goose-step +performances?” asked Euergetes, stretching himself out on his couch, +and folding his hands to support the back of his head. “Sooner could +I accustom myself to the delicate drinking of Aristarchus than sit +for hours watching these empty pageants. On two conditions only can +I declare myself ready and willing to remain quiet, and patiently to +dawdle through almost half a day, like an ape in a cage: First, if it +will give our Roman friend Publius Cornelius Scipio any pleasure to +witness such a performance--though, since our uncle Antiochus pillaged +our wealth, and since we brothers shared Egypt between us, our +processions are not to be even remotely compared to the triumphs of +Roman victors--or, secondly, if I am allowed to take an active part in +the affair.” + +“On my account, Sire,” replied Publius, “no procession need be arranged, +particularly not such a one as I should here be obliged to look on at.” + +“Well! I still enjoy such things,” said Cleopatra’s husband. +“Well-arranged groups, and the populace pleased and excited are a sight +I am never tired of.” + +“As for me,” cried Cleopatra, “I often turn hot and cold, and the tears +even spring to my eyes, when the shouting is loudest. A great mass of +men all uniting in a common emotion always has a great effect. A drop, a +grain of sand, a block of stone are insignificant objects, but +millions of them together, forming the sea, the desert or the pyramids, +constitute a sublime whole. One man alone, shouting for joy, is like +a madman escaped from an asylum, but when thousands of men rejoice +together it must have a powerful effect on the coldest heart. How is +it that you, Publius Scipio, in whom a strong will seems to me to have +found a peculiarly happy development, can remain unmoved by a scene in +which the great collective will of a people finds its utterance?” + +“Is there then any expression of will, think you,” said the Roman, “in +this popular rejoicing? It is just in such circumstances that each man +becomes the involuntary mimic and duplicate of his neighbor; while I +love to make my own way, and to be independent of everything but the +laws and duties laid upon me by the state to which I belong.” + +“And I,” said Euergetes, “from my childhood have always looked on +at processions from the very best places, and so it is that fortune +punishes me now with indifference to them and to everything of the kind; +while the poor miserable devil who can never catch sight of anything +more than the nose or the tip of a hair or the broad back of those who +take part in them, always longs for fresh pageants. As you hear, I need +have no consideration for Publius Scipio in this, willing as I should be +to do so. Now what would you say, Cleopatra, if I myself took a part in +my procession--I say mine, since it is to be in my honor; that really +would be for once something new and amusing.” + +“More new and amusing than creditable, I think,” replied Cleopatra +dryly. + +“And yet even that ought to please you,” laughed Euergetes. “Since, +besides being your brother, I am your rival, and we would sooner see our +rivals lower themselves than rise.” + +“Do not try to justify yourself by such words,” interrupted the king +evasively, and with a tone of regret in his soft voice. “We love you +truly; we are ready to yield you your dominion side by side with ours, +and I beg you to avoid such speeches even in jest, so that bygones may +be bygones.” + +“And,” added Cleopatra, “not to detract from your dignity as a king and +your fame as a sage by any such fool’s pranks.” + +“Madam teacher, do you know then what I had in my mind? I would +appear as Alcibiades, followed by a train of flute-playing women, with +Aristarchus to play the part of Socrates. I have often been told that +he and I resemble each other--in many points, say the more sincere; in +every point, say the more polite of my friends.” + +At these words Publius measured with his eye the frame of the royal +young libertine, enveloped in transparent robes; and recalling to +himself, as he gazed, a glorious statue of that favorite of the +Athenians, which he had seen in the Ilissus, an ironical smile passed +over his lips. It was not unobserved by Euergetes and it offended him, +for there was nothing he liked better than to be compared to the nephew +of Pericles; but he suppressed his annoyance, for Publius Cornelius +Scipio was the nearest relative of the most influential men of Rome, +and, though he himself wielded royal power, Rome exercised over him the +sovereign will of a divinity. + +Cleopatra noticed what was passing in her brother’s mind, and in +order to interrupt his further speech and to divert his mind to fresh +thoughts, she said cheerfully: + +“Let us then give up the procession, and think of some other mode of +celebrating your birthday. You, Lysias, must be experienced in such +matters, for Publius tells me that you were the leader in all the games +of Corinth. What can we devise to entertain Euergetes and ourselves?” + +The Corinthian looked for a moment into his cup, moving it slowly about +on the marble slab of the little table at his side, between an oyster +pasty and a dish of fresh asparagus; and then he said, glancing round to +win the suffrages of the company: + +“At the great procession which took place under Ptolemy +Philadelphus--Agatharchides gave me the description of it, written by +the eye-witness Kallixenus, to read only yesterday--all kinds of scenes +from the lives of the gods were represented before the people. Suppose +we were to remain in this magnificent palace, and to represent ourselves +the beautiful groups which the great artists of the past have produced +in painting or sculpture; but let us choose those only that are least +known.” + +“Splendid,” cried Cleopatra in great excitement, “who can be more like +Heracles than my mighty brother there--the very son of Alcmene, as +Lysippus has conceived and represented him? Let us then represent +the life of Heracles from grand models, and in every case assign to +Euergetes the part of the hero.” + +“Oh! I will undertake it,” said the young king, feeling the mighty +muscles of his breast and arms, “and you may give me great credit for +assuming the part, for the demi-god who strangled the snakes was lacking +in the most important point, and it was not without due consideration +that Lysippus represented him with a small head on his mighty body; but +I shall not have to say anything.” + +“If I play Omphale will you sit at my feet?” asked Cleopatra. + +“Who would not be willing to sit at those feet?” answered Euergetes. +“Let us at once make further choice among the abundance of subjects +offered to us, but, like Lysias, I would warn you against those that are +too well-known.” + +“There are no doubt things commonplace to the eye as well as to the +ear,” said Cleopatra. “But what is recognized as good is commonly +regarded as most beautiful.” + +“Permit me,” said Lysias, “to direct your attention to a piece of +sculpture in marble of the noblest workmanship, which is both old and +beautiful, and yet which may be known to few among you. It exists on the +cistern of my father’s house at Corinth, and was executed many centuries +since by a great artist of the Peloponnesus. Publius was delighted +with the work, and it is in fact beautiful beyond description. It is an +exquisite representation of the marriage of Heracles and Hebe--of the +hero, raised to divinity, with sempiternal youth. Will Your Majesty +allow yourself to be led by Pallas Athene and your mother Alcmene to +your nuptials with Hebe?” + +“Why not?” said Euergetes. “Only the Hebe must be beautiful. But one +thing must be considered; how are we to get the cistern from your +father’s house at Corinth to this place by to-morrow or next day? Such a +group cannot be posed from memory without the original to guide us; and +though the story runs that the statue of Serapis flew from Sinope to +Alexandria, and though there are magicians still at Memphis--” + +“We shall not need them,” interrupted Publius, “while I was staying as +a guest in the house of my friend’s parents--which is altogether more +magnificent than the old castle of King Gyges at Sardis--I had some gems +engraved after this lovely group, as a wedding-present for my sister. +They are extremely successful, and I have them with me in my tent.” + +“Have you a sister?” asked the queen, leaning over towards the Roman. +“You must tell me all about her.” + +“She is a girl like all other girls,” replied Publius, looking down at +the ground, for it was most repugnant to his feelings to speak of his +sister in the presence of Euergetes. + +“And you are unjust like all other brothers,” said Cleopatra smiling, +“and I must hear more about her, for”--and she whispered the words and +looked meaningly at Publius--“all that concerns you must interest me.” + +During this dialogue the royal brothers had addressed themselves to +Lysias with questions as to the marriage of Heracles and Hebe, and all +the company were attentive to the Greek as he went on: “This fine work +does not represent the marriage properly speaking, but the moment when +the bridegroom is led to the bride. The hero, with his club on his +shoulder, and wearing the lion’s skin, is led by Pallas Athene, who, in +performing this office of peace, has dropped her spear and carries her +helmet in her hand; they are accompanied by his mother Alcmene, and +are advancing towards the bride’s train. This is headed by no less a +personage than Apollo himself, singing the praises of Hymenaeus to a +lute. With him walks his sister Artemis and behind them the mother of +Hebe, accompanied by Hermes, the messenger of the gods, as the envoy of +Zeus. Then follows the principal group, which is one of the most lovely +works of Greek art that I am acquainted with. Hebe comes forward to meet +her bridegroom, gently led on by Aphrodite, the queen of love. +Peitho, the goddess of persuasion, lays her hand on the bride’s arm, +imperceptibly urging her forward and turning away her face; for what she +had to say has been said, and she smiles to herself, for Hebe has not +turned a deaf ear to her voice, and he who has once listened to Peitho +must do what she desires.” + +“And Hebe?” asked Cleopatra. + +“She casts down her eyes, but lifts up the arm on which the hand of +Peitho rests with a warning movement of her fingers, in which she holds +an unopened rose, as though she would say; ‘Ah! let me be--I tremble at +the man’--or ask: ‘Would it not be better that I should remain as I am +and not yield to your temptations and to Aphrodite’s power?’ Oh! Hebe is +exquisite, and you, O Queen! must represent her!” + +“I!” exclaimed Cleopatra. “But you said her eyes were cast down.” + +“That is from modesty and timidity, and her gait must also be bashful +and maidenly. Her long robe falls to her feet in simple folds, while +Peitho holds hers up saucily, between her forefinger and thumb, as if +stealthily dancing with triumph over her recent victory. Indeed the +figure of Peitho would become you admirably.” + +“I think I will represent Peitho,” said the queen interrupting the +Corinthian. “Hebe is but a bud, an unopened blossom, while I am a +mother, and I flatter myself I am something of a philosopher--” + +“And can with justice assure yourself,” interrupted Aristarchus, “that +with every charm of youth you also possess the characters attributed to +Peitho, the goddess, who can work her spells not only on the heart but +on the intellect also. The maiden bud is as sweet to look upon as +the rose, but he who loves not merely color but perfume too--I mean +refreshment, emotion and edification of spirit--must turn to the +full-blown flower; as the rose--growers of lake Moeris twine only the +buds of their favorite flower into wreaths and bunches, but cannot use +them for extracting the oil of imperishable fragrance; for that they +need the expanded blossom. Represent Peitho, my Queen! the goddess +herself might be proud of such a representative.” + +“And if she were so indeed,” cried Cleopatra, “how happy am I to hear +such words from the lips of Aristarchus. It is settled--I play Peitho. +My companion Zoe may take the part of Artemis, and her grave sister +that of Pallas Athene. For the mother’s part we have several matrons to +choose from; the eldest daughter of Epitropes appears to me fitted for +the part of Aphrodite; she is wonderfully lovely.” + +“Is she stupid too?” asked Euergetes. “That is also an attribute of the +ever-smiling Cypria.” + +“Enough so, I think, for our purpose,” laughed Cleopatra. “But where are +we to find such a Hebe as you have described, Lysias? The daughter of +Alimes the Arabarch is a charming child.” + +“But she is brown, as brown as this excellent wine, and too thoroughly +Egyptian,” said the high-steward, who superintended the young Macedonian +cup-bearers; he bowed deeply as he spoke, and modestly drew the queen’s +attention to his own daughter, a maiden of sixteen. But Cleopatra +objected, that she was much taller than herself, and that she would have +to stand by the Hebe, and lay her hand on her arm. + +Other maidens were rejected on various grounds, and Euergetes had +already proposed to send off a carrier-pigeon to Alexandria to command +that some fair Greek girl should be sent by an express quadriga to +Memphis--where the dark Egyptian gods and men flourish, and are more +numerous than the fair race of Greeks--when Lysias exclaimed: + +“I saw to-day the very girl we want, a Hebe that might have stepped out +from the marble group at my father’s, and have been endued with life and +warmth and color by some god. Young, modest, rose and white, and just +about as tall as Your Majesty. If you will allow me, I will not tell you +who she is, till after I have been to our tent to fetch the gems with +the copies of the marble.” + +“You will find them in an ivory casket at the bottom of my +clothes-chest,” said Publius; “here is the key.” + +“Make haste,” cried the queen, “for we are all curious to hear where in +Memphis you discovered your modest, rose and white Hebe.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +An hour had slipped by with the royal party, since Lysias had quitted +the company; the wine-cups had been filled and emptied many times; +Eulaeus had rejoined the feasters, and the conversation had taken +quite another turn, since the whole of the company were not now equally +interested in the same subject; on the contrary, the two kings were +discussing with Aristarchus the manuscripts of former poets and of the +works of the sages, scattered throughout Greece, and the ways and means +of obtaining them or of acquiring exact transcripts of them for the +library of the Museum. Hierax was telling Eulaeus of the last Dionysiac +festival, and of the representation of the newest comedy in Alexandria, +and Eulaeus assumed the appearance--not unsuccessfully--of listening +with both ears, interrupting him several times with intelligent +questions, bearing directly on what he had said, while in fact his +attention was exclusively directed to the queen, who had taken entire +possession of the Roman Publius, telling him in a low tone of her +life--which was consuming her strength--of her unsatisfied affections, +and her enthusiasm for Rome and for manly vigor. As she spoke her cheeks +glowed and her eyes sparkled, for the more exclusively she kept the +conversation in her own hands the better she thought she was being +entertained; and Publius, who was nothing less than talkative, seldom +interrupted her, only insinuating a flattering word now and then when +it seemed appropriate; for he remembered the advice given him by the +anchorite, and was desirous of winning the good graces of Cleopatra. + +In spite of his sharp ears Eulaeus could understand but little of their +whispered discourse, for King Euergetes’ powerful voice sounded loud +above the rest of the conversation; but Eulaeus was able swiftly to +supply the links between the disjointed sentences, and to grasp the +general sense, at any rate, of what she was saying. The queen avoided +wine, but she had the power of intoxicating herself, so to speak, with +her own words, and now just as her brothers and Aristarchus were at the +height of their excited and eager question and answer--she raised her +cup, touched it with her lips and handed it to Publius, while at the +same time she took hold of his. + +The young Roman knew well enough all the significance of this hasty +action; it was thus that in his own country a woman when in love was +wont to exchange her cup with her lover, or an apple already bitten by +her white teeth. + +Publius was seized with a cold shudder--like a wanderer who carelessly +pursues his way gazing up at the moon and stars, and suddenly perceives +an abyss yawning; at his feet. Recollections of his mother and of +her warnings against the seductive wiles of the Egyptian women, +and particularly of this very woman, flashed through his mind like +lightning; she was looking at him--not royally by any means, but with +anxious and languishing gaze, and he would gladly have kept his eyes +fixed on the ground, and have left the cup untouched; but her eye held +his fast as though fettering it with ties and bonds; and to put aside +the cup seemed to the most fearless son of an unconquered nation a deed +too bold to be attempted. Besides, how could he possibly repay this +highest favor with an affront that no woman could ever forgive--least of +all a Cleopatra? + +Aye, many a life’s happiness is tossed away and many a sin committed, +because the favor of women is a grace that does honor to every man, and +that flatters him even when it is bestowed by the unloved and unworthy. +For flattery is a key to the heart, and when the heart stands half open +the voice of the tempter is never wanting to whisper: “You will hurt her +feelings if you refuse.” + +These were the deliberations which passed rapidly and confusedly through +the young Roman’s agitated brain, as he took the queen’s cup and set his +lips to the same spot that hers had touched. Then, while he emptied the +cup in long draughts, he felt suddenly seized by a deep aversion to the +over-talkative, overdressed and capricious woman before him, who thus +forced upon him favors for which he had not sued; and suddenly there +rose before his soul the image, almost tangibly distinct, of the humble +water-bearer; he saw Klea standing before him and looking far more +queenly as, proud and repellent, she avoided his gaze, than the +sovereign by his side could ever have done, though crowned with a +diadem. + +Cleopatra rejoiced to mark his long slow draught, for she thought the +Roman meant to imply by it that he could not cease to esteem himself +happy in the favor she had shown him. She did not take her eyes off him, +and observed with pleasure that his color changed to red and white; nor +did she notice that Eulaeus was watching, with a twinkle in his eyes, +all that was going on between her and Publius. At last the Roman set +down the cup, and tried with some confusion to reply to her question as +to how he had liked the flavor of the wine. + +“Very fine--excellent--” at last he stammered out, but he was no longer +looking at Cleopatra but at Euergetes, who just then cried out loudly: + +“I have thought over that passage for hours, I have given you all my +reasons and have let you speak, Aristarchus, but I maintain my opinion, +and whoever denies it does Homer an injustice; in this place ‘siu’ must +be read instead of ‘iu’.” + +Euergetes spoke so vehemently that his voice outshouted all the other +guests; Publius however snatched at his words, to escape the necessity +for feigning sentiments he could not feel; so he said, addressing +himself half to the speaker and half to Cleopatra: + +“Of what use can it be to decide whether it is one or the other--‘iu’ or +‘siu’. I find many things justifiable in other men that are foreign +to my own nature, but I never could understand how an energetic and +vigorous man, a prudent sovereign and stalwart drinker--like you, +Euergetes--can sit for hours over flimsy papyrus-rolls, and rack his +brains to decide whether this or that in Homer should be read in one way +or another.” + +“You exercise yourself in other things,” replied Euergetes. “I consider +that part of me which lies within this golden fillet as the best that I +have, and I exercise my wits on the minutest and subtlest questions just +as I would try the strength of my arms against the sturdiest athletes. I +flung five into the sand the last time I did so, and they quake now when +they see me enter the gymnasium of Timagetes. There would be no strength +in the world if there were no obstacles, and no man would know that he +was strong if he could meet with no resistance to overcome. I for my +part seek such exercises as suit my idiosyncrasy, and if they are not +to your taste I cannot help it. If you were to set these excellently +dressed crayfish before a fine horse he would disdain them, and could +not understand how foolish men could find anything palatable that tasted +so salt. Salt, in fact, is not suited to all creatures! Men born far +from the sea do not relish oysters, while I, being a gourmand, even +prefer to open them myself so that they may be perfectly fresh, and mix +their liquor with my wine.” + +“I do not like any very salt dish, and am glad to leave the opening of +all marine produce to my servants,” answered Publius. “Thereby I save +both time and unnecessary trouble.” + +“Oh! I know!” cried Euergetes. “You keep Greek slaves, who must even +read and write for you. Pray is there a market where I may purchase men, +who, after a night of carousing, will bear our headache for us? By the +shores of the Tiber you love many things better than learning.” + +“And thereby,” added Aristarchus, “deprive yourselves of the noblest and +subtlest of pleasures, for the purest enjoyment is ever that which we +earn at the cost of some pains and effort.” + +“But all that you earn by this kind of labor,” returned Publius, “is +petty and unimportant. It puts me in mind of a man who removes a block +of stone in the sweat of his brow only to lay it on a sparrow’s feather +in order that it may not be carried away by the wind.” + +“And what is great--and what is small?” asked Aristarchus. “Very +opposite opinions on that subject may be equally true, since it depends +solely on us and our feelings how things appear to us--whether cold or +warm; lovely or repulsive--and when Protagoras says that ‘man is the +measure of all things,’ that is the most acceptable of all the maxims +of the Sophists; moreover the smallest matter--as you will fully +appreciate--acquires an importance all the greater in proportion as the +thing is perfect, of which it forms a part. If you slit the ear of a +cart-horse, what does it signify? but suppose the same thing were to +happen to a thoroughbred horse, a charger that you ride on to battle! + +“A wrinkle or a tooth more or less in the face of a peasant woman +matters little, or not at all, but it is quite different in a celebrated +beauty. If you scrawl all over the face with which the coarse finger of +the potter has decorated a water-jar, the injury to the wretched pot is +but small, but if you scratch, only with a needle’s point, that gem +with the portraits of Ptolemy and Arsinoe, which clasps Cleopatra’s robe +round her fair throat, the richest queen will grieve as though she had +suffered some serious loss. + +“Now, what is there more perfect or more worthy to be treasured than the +noblest works of great thinkers and great poets. + +“To preserve them from injury, to purge them from the errors which, in +the course of time, may have spotted their immaculate purity, this is +our task; and if we do indeed raise blocks of stone it is not to weight +a sparrow’s feather that it may not be blown away, but to seal the door +which guards a precious possession, and to preserve a gem from injury. + +“The chatter of girls at a fountain is worth nothing but to be wafted +away on the winds, and to be remembered by none; but can a son ever +deem that one single word is unimportant which his dying father has +bequeathed to him as a clue to his path in life? If you yourself were +such a son, and your ear had not perfectly caught the parting counsels +of the dying-how many talents of silver would you not pay to be able to +supply the missing words? And what are immortal works of the great poets +and thinkers but such sacred words of warning addressed, not to a single +individual, but to all that are not barbarians, however many they maybe. +They will elevate, instruct, and delight our descendants a thousand +years hence as they do us at this day, and they, if they are not +degenerate and ungrateful will be thankful to those who have devoted +the best powers of their life to completing and restoring all that our +mighty forefathers have said, as it must have originally stood before it +was mutilated, and spoiled by carelessness and folly. + +“He who, like King Euergetes, puts one syllable in Homer right, in +place of a wrong one, in my opinion has done a service to succeeding +generations--aye and a great service.” + +“What you say,” replied Publius, “sounds convincing, but it is still +not perfectly clear to me; no doubt because I learned at an early age to +prefer deeds to words. I find it more easy to reconcile my mind to your +painful and minute labors when I reflect that to you is entrusted the +restoration of the literal tenor of laws, whose full meaning might be +lost by a verbal error; or that wrong information might be laid +before me as to one single transaction in the life of a friend or of a +blood-relation, and it might lie with me to clear him of mistakes and +misinterpretation.” + +“And what are the works of the great singers of the deeds of the +heroes-of the writers of past history, but the lives of our fathers +related either with veracious exactness or with poetic adornments?” + cried Aristarchus. “It is to these that my king and companion in study +devotes himself with particular zeal.” + +“When he is neither drinking, nor raving, nor governing, nor wasting his +time in sacrificing and processions,” interpolated Euergetes. “If I had +not been a king perhaps I might have been an Aristarchus; as it is I +am but half a king--since half of my kingdom belongs to you, +Philometor--and but half a student; for when am I to find perfect quiet +for thinking and writing? Everything, everything in me is by halves, for +I, if the scale were to turn in my favor”--and here he struck his chest +and his forehead, “I should be twice the man I am. I am my whole real +self nowhere but at high festivals, when the wine sparkles in the cup, +and bright eyes flash from beneath the brows of the flute-players of +Alexandria or Cyrene--sometimes too perhaps in council when the risk is +great, or when there is something vast and portentous to be done from +which my brother and you others, all of you, would shrink--nay perhaps +even the Roman. Aye! so it is--and you will learn to know it.” + +Euergetes had roared rather than spoken the last words; his cheeks were +flushed, his eyes rolled, while he took from his head both the garland +of flowers and the golden fillet, and once more pushed his fingers +through his hair. + +His sister covered her ears with her hands, and said: “You positively +hurt me! As no one is contradicting you, and you, as a man of culture, +are not accustomed to add force to your assertions, like the Scythians, +by speaking in a loud tone, you would do well to save your metallic +voice for the further speech with which it is to be hoped you will +presently favor us. We have had to bow more than once already to the +strength of which you boast--but now, at a merry feast, we will not +think of that, but rather continue the conversation which entertained +us, and which had begun so well. This eager defence of the interests +which most delight the best of the Hellenes in Alexandria may perhaps +result in infusing into the mind of our friend Publius Scipio--and +through him into that of many young Romans--a proper esteem for a line +of intellectual effort which he could not have condemned had he not +failed to understand it perfectly. + +“Very often some striking poetical turn given to a subject makes it, +all at once, clear to our comprehension, even when long and learned +disquisitions have failed; and I am acquainted with such an one, +written by an anonymous author, and which may please you--and you too, +Aristarchus. It epitomizes very happily the subject of our discussion. +The lines run as follows: + + “Behold, the puny Child of Man + Sits by Time’s boundless sea, + And gathers in his feeble hand + Drops of Eternity. + + “He overhears some broken words + Of whispered mystery + He writes them in a tiny book + And calls it ‘History!’ + +“We owe these verses to an accomplished friend; another has amplified +the idea by adding the two that follow: + + “If indeed the puny Child of Man + Had not gathered drops from that wide sea, + Those small deeds that fill his little span + Had been lost in dumb Eternity. + + “Feeble is his hand, and yet it dare + Seize some drops of that perennial stream; + As they fall they catch a transient gleam-- + Lo! Eternity is mirrored there! + +“What are we all but puny children? And those of us who gather up the +drops surely deserve our esteem no less than those who spend their lives +on the shore of that great ocean in mere play and strife--” + +“And love,” threw in Eulaeus in a low voice, as he glanced towards +Publius. + +“Your poet’s verses are pretty and appropriate,” Aristarchus now said, +“and I am very happy to find myself compared to the children who catch +the falling drops. There was a time--which came to an end, alas! with +the great Aristotle--when there were men among the Greeks, who fed the +ocean of which you speak with new tributaries; for the gods had bestowed +on them the power of opening new sources, like the magician Moses, of +whom Onias, the Jew, was lately telling us, and whose history I have +read in the sacred books of the Hebrews. He, it is true--Moses I +mean--only struck water from the rock for the use of the body, while to +our philosophers and poets we owe inexhaustible springs to refresh the +mind and soul. The time is now past which gave birth to such divine and +creative spirits; as your majesties’ forefathers recognized full well +when they founded the Museum of Alexandria and the Library, of which I +am one of the guardians, and which I may boast of having completed with +your gracious assistance. When Ptolemy Soter first created the Museum in +Alexandria the works of the greatest period could receive no additions +in the form of modern writings of the highest class; but he set +us--children of man, gathering the drops--the task of collecting and of +sifting them, of eliminating errors in them--and I think we have proved +ourselves equal to this task. + +“It has been said that it is no less difficult to keep a fortune than to +deserve it; and so perhaps we, who are merely ‘keepers’ may nevertheless +make some credit--all the more because we have been able to arrange the +wealth we found under hand, to work it profitably, to apply it well, to +elucidate it, and to make it available. When anything new is created +by one of our circle we always link it on to the old; and in many +departments we have indeed even succeeded in soaring above the +ancients, particularly in that of the experimental sciences. The sublime +intelligence of our forefathers commanded a broad horizon--our narrower +vision sees more clearly the objects that lie close to us. We have +discovered the sure path for all intellectual labor, the true scientific +method; and an observant study of things as they are, succeeds better +with us than it did with our predecessors. Hence it follows that in the +provinces of the natural sciences, in mathematics, astronomy, +mechanics and geography the sages of our college have produced works of +unsurpassed merit. Indeed the industry of my associates--” + +“Is very great,” cried Euergetes. “But they stir up such a dust that all +free-thought is choked, and because they value quantity above all things +in the results they obtain, they neglect to sift what is great from what +is small; and so Publius Scipio and others like him, who shrug their +shoulders over the labors of the learned, find cause enough to laugh in +their faces. Out of every four of you I should dearly like to set three +to some handicraft, and I shall do it too, one of these days--I shall +do it, and turn them and all their miserable paraphernalia out of +the Museum, and out of my capital. They may take refuge with you, +Philometor, you who marvel at everything you cannot do yourself, who +are always delighted to possess what I reject, and to make much of those +whom I condemn--and Cleopatra I dare say will play the harp, in honor of +their entering Memphis.” + +“I dare say!” answered the queen, laughing bitterly. “Still, it is to be +expected that your wrath may fall even on worthy men. Until then I will +practise my music, and study the treatise on harmony that you have begun +writing. You are giving us proof to-day of how far you have succeeded in +attaining unison in your own soul.” + +“I like you in this mood!” cried Euergetes. “I love you, sister, when +you are like this! It ill becomes the eagle’s brood to coo like the +dove, and you have sharp talons though you hide them never so well under +your soft feathers. It is true that I am writing a treatise on harmony, +and I am doing it with delight; still it is one of those phenomena +which, though accessible to our perception, are imperishable, for no +god even could discover it entire and unmixed in the world of realities. +Where is harmony to be found in the struggles and rapacious strife of +the life of the Cosmos? And our human existence is but the diminished +reflection of that process of birth and decease, of evolution and +annihilation, which is going on in all that is perceptible to our +senses; now gradually and invisibly, now violently and convulsively, but +never harmonyously. + +“Harmony is at home only in the ideal world--harmony which is unknown +even among the gods harmony, whom I may know, and yet may never +comprehend--whom I love, and may never possess--whom I long for, and who +flies from me. + +“I am as one that thirsteth, and harmony as the remote, unattainable +well--I am as one swimming in a wide sea, and she is the land which +recedes as I deem myself near to it. + +“Who will tell me the name of the country where she rules as queen, +undisturbed and untroubled? And which is most in earnest in his pursuit +of the fair one: He who lies sleeping in her arms, or he who is consumed +by his passion for her? + +“I am seeking what you deem that you possess.--Possess--! + +“Look round you on the world and on life--look round, as I do, on this +hall of which you are so proud! It was built by a Greek; but, because +the simple melody of beautiful forms in perfect concord no longer +satisfies you, and your taste requires the eastern magnificence in which +you were born, because this flatters your vanity and reminds you, each +time you gaze upon it, that you are wealthy and powerful--you commanded +your architect to set aside simple grandeur, and to build this gaudy +monstrosity, which is no more like the banqueting-hall of a Pericles +than I or you, Cleopatra, in all our finery, are like the simply clad +gods and goddesses of Phidias. I mean not to offend you, Cleopatra, but +I must say this; I am writing now on the subject of harmony, and perhaps +I shall afterwards treat of justice, truth, virtue; although I know full +well that they are pure abstractions which occur neither in nature nor +in human life, and which in my dealings I wholly set aside; nevertheless +they seem to me worthy of investigation, like any other delusion, if by +resolving it we may arrive at conditional truth. It is because one man +is afraid of another that these restraints--justice, truth, and what +else you will--have received these high-sounding names, have been +stamped as characteristics of the gods, and placed under the protection +of the immortals; nay, our anxious care has gone so far that it has been +taught as a doctrine that it is beautiful and good to cloud our free +enjoyment of existence for the sake of these illusions. Think of +Antisthenes and his disciples, the dog-like Cynics--think of the fools +shut up in the temple of Serapis! Nothing is beautiful but what is +free, and he only is not free who is forever striving to check his +inclinations--for the most part in vain--in order to live, as feeble +cowards deem virtuously, justly and truthfully. + +“One animal eats another when he has succeeded in capturing it, either +in open fight or by cunning and treachery; the climbing plant strangles +the tree, the desert-sand chokes the meadows, stars fall from heaven, +and earthquakes swallow up cities. You believe in the gods--and so do +I after my own fashion--and if they have so ordered the course of this +life in every class of existence that the strong triumph over the +weak, why should not I use my strength, why let it be fettered by those +much-belauded soporifics which our prudent ancestors concocted to cool +the hot blood of such men as I, and to paralyze our sinewy fists. + +“Euergetes--the well-doer--I was named at my birth; but if men choose to +call me Kakergetes--the evil-doer--I do not mind it, since what you call +good I call narrow and petty, and what you call evil is the free and +unbridled exercise of power. I would be anything rather than lazy +and idle, for everything in nature is active and busy; and as, with +Aristippus, I hold pleasure to be the highest good, I would fain earn +the name of having enjoyed more than all other men; in the first place +in my mind, but no less in my body which I admire and cherish.” + +During this speech many signs of disagreement had found expression, +and Publius, who for the first time in his life heard such vicious +sentiments spoken, followed the words of the headstrong youth +with consternation and surprise. He felt himself no match for this +overbearing spirit, trained too in all the arts of argument and +eloquence; but he could not leave all he had heard uncontroverted, and +so, as Euergetes paused in order to empty his refilled cup, he began: + +“If we were all to act on your principles, in a few centuries, it seems +to me, there would be no one left to subscribe to them; for the earth +would be depopulated; and the manuscripts, in which you are so careful +to substitute ‘siu’ for ‘iu’, would be used by strong-handed mothers, +if any were left, to boil the pot for their children--in this country of +yours where there is no wood to burn. Just now you were boasting of your +resemblance to Alcibiades, but that very gift which distinguished +him, and made him dear to the Athenians--I mean his beauty--is hardly +possible in connection with your doctrines, which would turn men into +ravening beasts. He who would be beautiful must before all things be +able to control himself and to be moderate--as I learnt in Rome before +I ever saw Athens, and have remembered well. A Titan may perhaps have +thought and talked as you do, but an Alcibiades--hardly!” + +At these words the blood flew to Euergetes’ face; but he suppressed the +keen and insulting reply that rose to his lips, and this little victory +over his wrathful impulse was made the more easy as Lysias, at this +moment, rejoined the feasters; he excused himself for his long absence, +and then laid before Cleopatra and her husband the gems belonging to +Publius. + +They were warmly admired; even Euergetes was not grudging of his praise, +and each of the company admitted that he had rarely seen anything more +beautiful and graceful than the bashful Hebe with downcast eyes, and the +goddess of persuasion with her hand resting on the bride’s arm. + +“Yes, I will take the part of Peitho,” said Cleopatra with decision. + +“And I that of Heracles,” cried Euergetes. + +“But who is the fair one,” asked King Philometor of Lysias, “whom you +have in your eye, as fulfilling this incomparably lovely conception of +Hebe? While you were away I recalled to memory the aspect of every woman +and girl who frequents our festivals, but only to reject them all, one +after the other.” + +“The fair girl whom I mean,” replied Lysias, “has never entered this +or any other palace; indeed I am almost afraid of being too bold in +suggesting to our illustrious queen so humble a child as fit to stand +beside her, though only in sport.” + +“I shall even have to touch her arm with my hand!” said the queen +anxiously, and she drew up her fingers as if she had to touch some +unclean thing. “If you mean a flower-seller or a flute-player or +something of that kind--” + +“How could I dare to suggest anything so improper?” Lysias hastily +interposed. “The girl of whom I speak may be sixteen years old; she +is innocence itself incarnate, and she looks like a bud ready to open +perhaps in the morning dew that may succeed this very night, but which +as yet is still enfolded in its cup. She is of Greek race, about as tall +as you are, Cleopatra; she has wonderful gazelle-like eyes, her little +head is covered by a mass of abundant brown hair, when she smiles she +has delicious dimples in her cheeks--and she will be sure to smile when +such a Peitho speaks to her!” + +“You are rousing our curiosity,” cried Philometor. “In what garden, +pray, does this blossom grow?” + +“And how is it,” added Cleopatra, “that my husband has not discovered it +long since, and transplanted it to our palace.” + +“Probably,” answered Lysias, “because he who possesses Cleopatra, +the fairest rose of Egypt, regards the violets by the roadside as too +insignificant to be worth glancing at. Besides, the hedge that fences +round my bud grows in a gloomy spot; it is difficult of access and +suspiciously watched. To be brief: our Hebe is a water-bearer in the +temple of Serapis, and her name is Irene.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +Lysias was one of those men from whose lips nothing ever sounds as if it +were meant seriously. His statement that he regarded a serving girl from +the temple of Serapis as fit to personate Hebe, was spoken as naturally +and simply as if he were telling a tale for children; but his words +produced an effect on his hearers like the sound of waters rushing into +a leaky ship. + +Publius had turned perfectly white, and it was not till his friend +had uttered the name of Irene that he in some degree recovered his +composure; Philometor had struck his cup on the table, and called out in +much excitement: + +“A water-bearer of Serapis to play Hebe in a gay festal performance! Do +you conceive it possible, Cleopatra?” + +“Impossible--it is absolutely out of the question,” replied the +queen, decidedly. Euergetes, who also had opened his eyes wide at the +Corinthian’s proposition, sat for a long time gazing into his cup +in silence; while his brother and sister continued to express +their surprise and disapprobation and to speak of the respect and +consideration which even kings must pay to the priests and servants of +Serapis. + +At length, once more lifting his wreath and crown, he raised his curls +with both hands, and said, quite calmly and decisively; + +“We must have a Hebe, and must take her where we find her. If you +hesitate to allow the girl to be fetched it shall be done by my orders. +The priests of Serapis are for the most part Greeks, and the high-priest +is a Hellene. He will not trouble himself much about a half-grown-up +girl if he can thereby oblige you or me. He knows as well as the rest of +us that one hand washes the other! The only question now is--for I would +rather avoid all woman’s outcries--whether the girl will come willingly +or unwillingly if we send for her. What do you think, Lysias?” + +“I believe she would sooner get out of prison to-day than to-morrow,” + replied Lysias. “Irene is a lighthearted creature, and laughs as clearly +and merrily as a child at play--and besides that they starve her in her +cage.” + +“Then I will have her fetched to-morrow!” said Euergetes. + +“But,” interrupted Cleopatra, “Asclepiodorus must obey us and not you; +and we, my husband and I--” + +“You cannot spoil sport with the priests,” laughed Euergetes. “If they +were Egyptians, then indeed! They are not to be taken in their nests +without getting pecked; but here, as I have said, we have to deal with +Greeks. What have you to fear from them? For aught I care you may +leave our Hebe where she is, but I was once much pleased with these +representations, and to-morrow morning, as soon as I have slept, I +shall return to Alexandria, if you do not carry them into effect, and +so deprive me, Heracles, of the bride chosen for me by the gods. I have +said what I have said, and I am not given to changing my mind. Besides, +it is time that we should show ourselves to our friends feasting here in +the next room. They are already merry, and it must be getting late.” + +With these words Euergetes rose from his couch, and beckoned to Hierax +and a chamberlain, who arranged the folds of his transparent robe, while +Philometor and Cleopatra whispered together, shrugging their shoulders +and shaking their heads; and Publius, pressing his hand on the +Corinthian’s wrist, said in his ear: “You will not give them any help +if you value our friendship; we will leave as soon as we can do so with +propriety.” + +Euergetes did not like to be kept waiting. He was already going towards +the door, when Cleopatra called him back, and said pleasantly, but with +gentle reproachfulness: + +“You know that we are willing to follow the Egyptian custom of carrying +out as far as possible the wishes of a friend and brother for his +birthday festival; but for that very reason it is not right in you to +try to force us into a proceeding which we refuse with difficulty, and +yet cannot carry out without exposing ourselves to the most unpleasant +consequences. We beg you to make some other demand on us, and we will +certainly grant it if it lies in our power.” + +The young colossus responded to his sister’s appeal with a loud shout +of laughter, waved his arm with a flourish of his hand expressive of +haughty indifference; and then he exclaimed: + +“The only thing I really had a fancy for out of all your possessions you +are not willing to concede, and so I must abide by my word--or I go on +my way.” + +Again Cleopatra and her husband exchanged a few muttered words and rapid +glances, Euergetes watching them the while; his legs straddled apart, +his huge body bent forward, and his hands resting on his hips. His +attitude expressed so much arrogance and puerile, defiant, unruly +audacity, that Cleopatra found it difficult to suppress an exclamation +of disgust before she spoke. + +“We are indeed brethren,” she said, “and so, for the sake of the peace +which has been restored and preserved with so much difficulty, we give +in. The best way will be to request Asclepiodorus--” + +But here Euergetes interrupted the queen, clapping his hands loudly and +laughing: + +“That is right, sister! only find me my Hebe! How you do it is your +affair, and is all the same to me. To-morrow evening we will have a +rehearsal, and the day after we will give a representation of which our +grandchildren shall repeat the fame. Nor shall a brilliant audience be +lacking, for my complimentary visitors with their priestly splendor +and array of arms will, it is to be hoped, arrive punctually. Come, my +lords, we will go, and see what there is good to drink or to listen to +at the table in the next room.” + +The doors were opened; music, loud talking, the jingle of cups, and the +noise of laughter sounded through them into the room where the princes +had been supping, and all the king’s guests followed Euergetes, with the +exception of Eulaeus. Cleopatra allowed them to depart without speaking +a word; only to Publius she said: “Till we meet again!” but she detained +the Corinthian, saying: + +“You, Lysias, are the cause of this provoking business. Try now to +repair the mischief by bringing the girl to us. Do not hesitate! I will +guard her, protect her with the greatest care, rely upon me.” + +“She is a modest maiden,” replied Lysias, “and will not accompany +me willingly, I am sure. When I proposed her for the part of Hebe I +certainly supposed that a word from you, the king and queen, would +suffice to induce the head of the temple to entrust her to you for a few +hours of harmless amusement. Pardon me if I too quit you now; I have the +key of my friend’s chest still in my possession, and must restore it to +him.” + +“Shall we have her carried off secretly?” asked Cleopatra of her +husband, when the Corinthian had followed the other guests. + +“Only let us have no scandal, no violence,” cried Philometor anxiously. +“The best way would be for me to write to Asclepiodorus, and beg him in +a friendly manner to entrust this girl--Ismene or Irene, or whatever the +ill-starred child’s name is--for a few days to you, Cleopatra, for your +pleasure. I can offer him a prospect of an addition to the gift of land +I made today, and which fell far short of his demands.” + +“Let me entreat your majesty,” interposed Eulaeus, who was now alone +with the royal couple, “let me entreat you not to make any great +promises on this occasion, for the moment you do so Asclepiodorus will +attribute an importance to your desire--” + +“Which it is far from having, and must not seem to have,” interrupted +the queen. “It is preposterous to waste so many words about a +miserable creature, a water-carrying girl, and to go through so much +disturbance--but how are we to put an end to it all? What is your +advice, Eulaeus?” + +“I thank you for that enquiry, noble princess,” replied Eulaeus. “My +lord, the king, in my opinion, should have the girl carried off, but +not with any violence, nor by a man--whom she would hardly follow so +immediately as is necessary--but by a woman. + +“I am thinking of the old Egyptian tale of ‘The Two Brothers,’ which you +are acquainted with. The Pharaoh desired to possess himself of the wife +of the younger one, who lived on the Mount of Cedars, and he sent armed +men to fetch her away; but only one of them came back to him, for Batau +had slain all the others. Then a woman was sent with splendid ornaments, +such as women love, and the fair one followed her unresistingly to the +palace. + +“We may spare the ambassadors, and send only the woman; your lady in +waiting, Zoe, will execute this commission admirably. Who can blame us +in any way if a girl, who loves finery, runs away from her keepers?” + +“But all the world will see her as Hebe,” sighed Philometor, “and +proclaim us--the sovereign protectors of the worship of Serapis--as +violators of the temple, if Asclepiodorus leads the cry. No, no, the +high-priest must first be courteously applied to. In the case of +his raising any difficulties, but not otherwise, shall Zoe make the +attempt.” + +“So be it then,” said the queen, as if it were her part to express her +confirmation of her husband’s proposition. + +“Let your lady accompany me,” begged Eulaeus, “and prefer your request +to Asclepiodorus. While I am speaking with the high-priest, Zoe can at +any rate win over the girl, and whatever we do must be done to-morrow, +or the Roman will be beforehand with us. I know that he has cast an eye +on Irene, who is in fact most lovely. He gives her flowers, feeds his +pet bird with pheasants and peaches and other sweetmeats, lets himself +be lured into the Serapeum by his lady-love as often as possible, stays +there whole hours, and piously follows the processions, in order to +present the violets with which you graciously honored him by giving them +to his fair one--who no doubt would rather wear royal flowers than any +others--” + +“Liar!” cried the queen, interrupting the courtier in such violent +excitement and such ungoverned rage, so completely beside herself, that +her husband drew back startled. + +“You are a slanderer! a base calumniator! The Roman attacks you with +naked weapons, but you slink in the dark, like a scorpion, and try +to sting your enemy in the heel. Apelles, the painter, warns us--the +grandchildren of Lagus--against folks of your kidney in the picture he +painted against Antiphilus; as I look at you I am reminded of his Demon +of Calumny. The same spite and malice gleam in your eyes as in hers, and +the same fury and greed for some victim, fire your flushed face! How +you would rejoice if the youth whom Apelles has represented Calumny as +clutching by the hair, could but be Publius! and if only the lean and +hollow-eyed form of Envy, and the loathsome female figures of Cunning +and Treachery would come to your did as they have to hers! But I +remember too the steadfast and truthful glance of the boy she has flung +to the ground, his arms thrown up to heaven, appealing for protection +to the goddess and the king--and though Publius Scipio is man enough +to guard himself against open attack, I will protect him against being +surprised from an ambush! Leave this room! Go, I say, and you shall see +how we punish slanderers!” + +At these words Eulaeus flung himself at the queen’s feet, but she, +breathing hurriedly and with quivering nostrils, looked away over his +head as if she did not even see him, till her husband came towards her, +and said in a voice of most winning gentleness: + +“Do not condemn him unheard, and raise him from his abasement. At least +give him the opportunity of softening your indignation by bringing the +water-bearer here without angering Asclepiodorus. Carry out this affair +well, Eulaeus, and you will find in me an advocate with Cleopatra.” + +The king pointed to the door, and Eulaeus retired, bowing deeply and +finding his way out backwards. Philometer, now alone with his wife, said +with mild reproach: + +“How could you abandon yourself to such unmeasured anger? So faithful +and prudent a servant--and one of the few still living of those to +whom our mother was attached--cannot be sent away like a mere clumsy +attendant. Besides, what is the great crime he has committed? Is it a +slander which need rouse you to such fury when a cautious old man says +in all innocence of a young one--a man belonging to a world which knows +nothing of the mysterious sanctity of Serapis--that he has taken a fancy +to a girl, who is admired by all who see her, that he seeks her out, and +gives her flowers--” + +“Gives her flowers?” exclaimed Cleopatra, breaking out afresh. “No, he +is accused of persecuting a maiden attached to Serapis--to Serapis I +say. But it is simply false, and you would be as angry as I am if you +were ever capable of feeling manly indignation, and if you did not want +to make use of Eulaeus for many things, some of which I know, and others +which you choose to conceal from me. Only let him fetch the girl; and +when once we have her here, and if I find that the Roman’s indictment +against Eulaeus--which I will hear to-morrow morning--is well founded, +you shall see that I have manly vigor enough for both of us. Come away +now; they are waiting for us in the other room.” + +The queen gave a call, and chamberlains and servants hurried in; her +shell-shaped litter was brought, and in a few minutes, with her husband +by her side, she was borne into the great peristyle where the grandees +of the court, the commanders of the troops, the most prominent of the +officials of the Egyptian provinces, many artists and savants, and the +ambassadors from foreign powers, were reclining on long rows of couches, +and talking over their wine, the feast itself being ended. + +The Greeks and the dark-hued Egyptians were about equally represented in +this motley assembly; but among them, and particularly among the learned +and the fighting men, there were also several Israelites and Syrians. + +The royal pair were received by the company with acclamations and marks +of respect; Cleopatra smiled as sweetly as ever, and waved her fan +graciously as she descended from her litter; still she vouchsafed not +the slightest attention to any one present, for she was seeking Publius, +at first among those who were nearest to the couch prepared for her, +and then among the other Hellenes, the Egyptians, the Jews, the +ambassadors--still she found him not, and when at last she enquired for +the Roman of the chief chamberlain at her side, the official was sent +for who had charge of the foreign envoys. This was an officer of very +high rank, whose duty it was to provide for the representatives of +foreign powers, and he was now near at hand, for he had long been +waiting for an opportunity to offer to the queen a message of +leave-taking from Publius Cornelius Scipio, and to tell her from him, +that he had retired to his tent because a letter had come to him from +Rome. + +“Is that true?” asked the queen letting her feather fan droop, and +looking her interlocutor severely in the face. + +“The trireme Proteus, coming from Brundisium, entered the harbor +of Eunostus only yesterday,” he replied; “and an hour ago a mounted +messenger brought the letter. Nor was it an ordinary letter but a +despatch from the Senate--I know the form and seal.” + +“And Lysias, the Corinthian?” + +“He accompanied the Roman.” + +“Has the Senate written to him too?” asked the queen annoyed, and +ironically. She turned her back on the officer without any kind of +courtesy, and turning again to the chamberlain she went on, in incisive +tones, as if she were presiding at a trial: + +“King Euergetes sits there among the Egyptians near the envoys from +the temples of the Upper Country. He looks as if he were giving them a +discourse, and they hang on his lips. What is he saying, and what does +all this mean?” + +“Before you came in, he was sitting with the Syrians and Jews, and +telling them what the merchants and scribes, whom he sent to the South, +have reported of the lands lying near the lakes through which the Nile +is said to flow. He thinks that new sources of wealth have revealed +themselves not far from the head of the sacred river which can hardly +flow in from the ocean, as the ancients supposed.” + +“And now?” asked Cleopatra. “What information is he giving to the +Egyptians?” + +The chamberlain hastened towards Euergetes’ couch, and soon returned to +the queen--who meanwhile had exchanged a few friendly words with Onias, +the Hebrew commander--and informed her in a low tone that the king +was interpreting a passage from the Timaeus of Plato, in which Solon +celebrates the lofty wisdom of the priests of Sais; he was speaking with +much spirit, and the Egyptians received it with loud applause. + +Cleopatra’s countenance darkened more and more, but she concealed it +behind her fan, signed to Philometor to approach, and whispered to him: + +“Keep near Euergetes; he has a great deal too much to say to the +Egyptians. He is extremely anxious to stand well with them, and those +whom he really desires to please are completely entrapped by his +portentous amiability. He has spoiled my evening, and I shall leave you +to yourselves.” + +“Till to-morrow, then.” + +“I shall hear the Roman’s complaint up on my roof-terrace; there is +always a fresh air up there. If you wish to be present I will send for +you, but first I would speak to him alone, for he has received letters +from the Senate which may contain something of importance. So, till +to-morrow.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +While, in the vast peristyle, many a cup was still being emptied, and +the carousers were growing merrier and noisier--while Cleopatra +was abusing the maids and ladies who were undressing her for their +clumsiness and unreadiness, because every touch hurt her, and every +pin taken out of her dress pricked her--the Roman and his friend Lysias +walked up and down in their tent in violent agitation. + +“Speak lower,” said the Greek, “for the very griffins woven into +the tissue of these thin walls seem to me to be lying in wait, and +listening. + +“I certainly was not mistaken. When I came to fetch the gems I saw a +light gleaming in the doorway as I approached it; but the intruder must +have been warned, for just as I got up to the lantern in front of +the servants’ tent, it disappeared, and the torch which usually burns +outside our tent had not been lighted at all; but a beam of light fell +on the road, and a man’s figure slipped across in a black robe sprinkled +with gold ornaments which I saw glitter as the pale light of the lantern +fell upon them--just as a slimy, black newt glides through a pool. I +have good eyes as you know, and I will give one of them at this moment, +if I am mistaken, and if the cat that stole into our tent was not +Eulaeus.” + +“And why did you not have him caught?” asked Publius, provoked. + +“Because our tent was pitch-dark,” replied Lysias, “and that stout +villain is as slippery as a badger with the dogs at his heels, Owls, +bats and such vermin which seek their prey by night are all hideous to +me, and this Eulaeus, who grins like a hyaena when he laughs--” + +“This Eulaeus,” said Publius, interrupting his friend, “shall learn to +know me, and know too by experience that a man comes to no good, who +picks a quarrel with my father’s son.” + +“But, in the first instance, you treated him with disdain and +discourtesy,” said Lysias, “and that was not wise.” + +“Wise, and wise, and wise!” the Roman broke out. “He is a scoundrel. It +makes no difference to me so long as he keeps out of my way; but when, +as has been the case for several days now, he constantly sticks close to +me to spy upon me, and treats me as if he were my equal, I will show +him that he is mistaken. He has no reason to complain of my want of +frankness; he knows my opinion of him, and that I am quite inclined to +give him a thrashing. If I wanted to meet his cunning with cunning I +should get the worst of it, for he is far superior to me in intrigue. I +shall fare better with him by my own unconcealed mode of fighting, which +is new to him and puzzles him; besides it is better suited to my own +nature, and more consonant to me than any other. He is not only sly, but +is keen-witted, and he has at once connected the complaint which I have +threatened to bring against him with the manuscript which Serapion, the +recluse, gave me in his presence. There it lies--only look. + +“Now, being not merely crafty, but a daring rascal too--two qualities +which generally contradict each other, for no one who is really prudent +lives in disobedience to the laws--he has secretly untied the strings +which fastened it. But, you see, he had not time enough to tie the +roll up again! He has read it all or in part, and I wish him joy of +the picture of himself he will have found painted there. The anchorite +wields a powerful pen, and paints with a firm outline and strongly +marked coloring. If he has read the roll to the end it will spare me the +trouble of explaining to him what I purpose to charge him with; if +you disturbed him too soon I shall have to be more explicit in my +accusation. Be that as it may, it is all the same to me.” + +“Nay, certainly not,” cried Lysias, “for in the first case Eulaeus will +have time to meditate his lies, and bribe witnesses for his defence. If +any one entrusted me with such important papers--and if it had not been +you who neglected to do it--I would carefully seal or lock them up. +Where have you put the despatch from the Senate which the messenger +brought you just now?” + +“That is locked up in this casket,” replied Publius, moving his hand to +press it more closely over his robe, under which he had carefully hidden +it. + +“May I not know what it contain?” asked the Corinthian. + +“No, there is not time for that now, for we must first, and at once, +consider what can be done to repair the last mischief which you have +done. Is it not a disgraceful thing that you should betray the sweet +creature whose childlike embarrassment charmed us this morning--of whom +you yourself said, as we came home, that she reminded you of your lovely +sister--that you should betray her, I say, into the power of the wildest +of all the profligates I ever met--to this monster, whose pleasures are +the unspeakable, whose boast is vice? What has Euergetes--” + +“By great Poseidon!” cried Lysias, eagerly interrupting his friend. “I +never once thought of this second Alcibiades when I mentioned her. What +can the manager of a performance do, but all in his power to secure the +applause of the audience? and, by my honor! it was for my own sake that +I wanted to bring Irene into the palace--I am mad with love for her--she +has undone me.” + +“Aye! like Callista, and Phryne, and the flute-player Stephanion,” + interrupted the Roman, shrugging his shoulders. + +“How should it be different?” asked the Corinthian, looking at his +friend in astonishment. “Eros has many arrows in his quiver; one +strikes deeply, another less deeply; and I believe that the wound I +have received to-day will ache for many a week if I have to give up +this child, who is even more charming than the much-admired Hebe on our +cistern.” + +“I advise you however to accustom yourself to the idea, and the sooner +the better,” said Publius gravely, as he set himself with his arms +crossed, directly in front of the Greek. “What would you feel inclined +to do to me if I took a fancy to lure your pretty sister--whom Irene, I +repeat it, is said to resemble--to tempt her with base cunning from your +parents’ house?” + +“I protest against any such comparison,” cried the Corinthian very +positively, and more genuinely exasperated than the Roman had ever seen +him. + +“You are angry without cause,” replied Publius calmly and gravely. “Your +sister is a charming girl, the ornament of your illustrious house, and +yet I dare compare the humble Irene--” + +“With her! do you mean to say?” Lysias shouted again. “That is a poor +return for the hospitality which was shown to you by my parents and of +which you formally sang the praises. I am a good-natured fellow and +will submit to more from you than from any other man--I know not why, +myself;--but in a matter like this I do not understand a joke! My sister +is the only daughter of the noblest and richest house in Corinth and +has many suitors. She is in no respect inferior to the child of your own +parents, and I should like to know what you would say if I made so +bold as to compare the proud Lucretia with this poor little thing, who +carries water like a serving-maid.” + +“Do so, by all means!” interrupted Publius coolly, “I do not take your +rage amiss, for you do not know who these two sisters are, in the temple +of Serapis. Besides, they do not fill their jars for men but in the +service of a god. Here--take this roll and read it through while I +answer the despatch from Rome. Here! Spartacus, come and light a few +more lamps.” + +In a few minutes the two young men were sitting opposite each other at +the table which stood in the middle of their tent. Publius wrote busily, +and only looked up when his friend, who was reading the anchorite’s +document, struck his hand on the table in disgust or sprang from his +seat ejaculating bitter words of indignation. Both had finished at the +same moment, and when Publius had folded and sealed his letter, and +Lysias had flung the roll on to the table, the Roman said slowly, as he +looked his friend steadily in the face: “Well?” + +“Well!” repeated Lysias. I now find myself in the humiliating position +of being obliged to deem myself more stupid than you--I must own you +in the right, and beg your pardon for having thought you insolent and +arrogant! Never, no never did I hear a story so infernally scandalous as +that in that roll, and such a thing could never have occurred but among +these accursed Egyptians! Poor little Irene! And how can the dear little +girl have kept such a sunny look through it all! I could thrash myself +like any school-boy to think that I--a fool among fools--should have +directed the attention of Euergetes to this girl, and he, the most +powerful and profligate man in the whole country. What can now be +done to save Irene from him? I cannot endure the thought of seeing her +abandoned to his clutches, and I will not permit it to happen. + +“Do not you think that we ought to take the water-bearers under our +charge?” + +“Not only we ought but we must,” said Publius decisively; “and if we did +not we should be contemptible wretches. Since the recluse took me into +his confidence I feel as if it were my duty to watch over these +girls whose parents have been stolen from them, as if I were their +guardian--and you, my Lysias, shall help me. The elder sister is not now +very friendly towards me, but I do not esteem her the less for that; +the younger one seems less grave and reserved than Klea; I saw how she +responded to your smile when the procession broke up. Afterwards, you +did not come home immediately any more than I did, and I suspect that it +was Irene who detained you. Be frank, I earnestly beseech you, and tell +me all; for we must act in unison, and with thorough deliberation, if we +hope to succeed in spoiling Euergetes’ game.” + +“I have not much to tell you,” replied the Corinthian. “After the +procession I went to the Pastophorium--naturally it was to see Irene, +and in order not to fail in this I allowed the pilgrims to tell me what +visions the god had sent them in their dreams, and what advice had been +given them in the temple of Asclepius as to what to do for their own +complaints, and those of their cousins, male and female. + +“Quite half an hour had passed so before Irene came. She carried a +little basket in which lay the gold ornaments she had worn at +the festival, and which she had to restore to the keeper of the +temple-treasure. My pomegranate-flower, which she had accepted in the +morning, shone upon me from afar, and then, when she caught sight of me +and blushed all over, casting down her eyes, then it was that it first +struck me ‘just like the Hebe on our cistern.’ + +“She wanted to pass me, but I detained her, begging her to show me the +ornaments in her hand; I said a number of things such as girls like to +hear, and then I asked her if she were strictly watched, and whether +they gave her delicate little hands and feet--which were worthy of +better occupation than water-carrying--a great deal to do. She did not +hesitate to answer, but with all she said she rarely raised her eyes. +The longer you look at her the lovelier she is--and yet she is still a +mere child-though a child certainly who no longer loves staying at home, +who has dreams of splendor, and enjoyment, and freedom while she is kept +shut up in a dismal, dark place, and left to starve. + +“The poor creatures may never quit the temple excepting for a +procession, or before sunrise. It sounded too delightful when she said +that she was always so horribly tired, and so glad to go to sleep again +after she was waked, and had to go out at once just when it is coldest, +in the twilight before sunrise. Then she has to draw water from a +cistern called the Well of the Sun.” + +“Do you know where that cistern lies?” asked Publius. + +“Behind the acacia-grove,” answered Lysias. “The guide pointed it out to +me. It is said to hold particularly sacred water, which must be poured +as a libation to the god at sunrise, unmixed with any other. The girls +must get up so early, that as soon as dawn breaks water from this +cistern shall not be lacking at the altar of Serapis. It is poured out +on the earth by the priests as a drink-offering.” + +Publius had listened attentively, and had not lost a word of his +friend’s narrative. He now quitted him hastily, opened the tent-door, +and went out into the night, looking up to discover the hour from +the stars which were silently pursuing their everlasting courses in +countless thousands, and sparkling with extraordinary brilliancy in the +deep blue sky. The moon was already set, and the morning-star was slowly +rising--every night since the Roman had been in the land of the Pyramids +he had admired its magnificent size and brightness. + +A cold breeze fanned the young man’s brow, and as he drew his robe +across his breast with a shiver, he thought of the sisters, who, before +long, would have to go out in the fresh morning air. Once more he raised +his eyes from the earth to the firmament over his head, and it seemed to +him that he saw before his very eyes the proud form of Klea, enveloped +in a mantle sown over with stars. His heart throbbed high, and he felt +as if the breeze that his heaving breast inhaled in deep breaths was as +fresh and pure as the ether that floats over Elysium, and of a strange +potency withal, as if too rare to breathe. Still he fancied he saw +before him the image of Klea, but as he stretched out his hand towards +the beautiful vision it vanished--a sound of hoofs and wheels fell upon +his ear. Publius was not accustomed to abandon himself to dreaming when +action was needed, and this reminded him of the purpose for which he had +come out into the open air. Chariot after chariot came driving past +as he returned into his tent. Lysias, who during his absence had been +pacing up and down and reflecting, met him with the question: + +“How long is it yet till sunrise?” + +“Hardly two hours,” replied the Roman. “And we must make good use of +them if we would not arrive too late.” + +“So I think too,” said the Corinthian. “The sisters will soon be at the +Well of the Sun outside the temple walls, and I will persuade Irene to +follow me. You think I shall not be successful? Nor do I myself--but +still perhaps she will if I promise to show her something very pretty, +and if she does not suspect that she is to be parted from her sister, +for she is like a child.” + +“But Klea,” interrupted Publius thoughtfully, “is grave and prudent; and +the light tone which you are so ready to adopt will be very little to +her taste, Consider that, and dare the attempt--no, you dare not deceive +her. Tell her the whole truth, out of Irene’s hearing, with the gravity +the matter deserves, and she will not hinder her sister when she knows +how great and how imminent is the danger that threatens her.” + +“Good!” said the Corinthian. “I will be so solemnly earnest that the +most wrinkled and furrowed graybeard among the censors of your native +city shall seem a Dionysiac dancer compared with me. I will speak like +your Cato when he so bitterly complained that the epicures of Rome paid +more now for a barrel of fresh herrings than for a yoke of oxen. You +shall be perfectly satisfied with me!--But whither am I to conduct +Irene? I might perhaps make use of one of the king’s chariots which are +passing now by dozens to carry the guests home.” + +“I also had thought of that,” replied Publius. “Go with the chief of the +Diadoches, whose splendid house was shown to us yesterday. It is on the +way to the Serapeum, and just now at the feast you were talking with +him incessantly. When there, indemnify the driver by the gift of a gold +piece, so that he may not betray us, and do not return here but proceed +to the harbor. I will await you near the little temple of Isis with our +travelling chariot and my own horses, will receive Irene, and conduct +her to some new refuge while you drive back Fuergetes’ chariot, and +restore it to the driver.” + +“That will not satisfy me by any means,” said Lysias very gravely; “I +was ready to give up my pomegranate-flower to you yesterday for Irene, +but herself--” + +“I want nothing of her,” exclaimed Publius annoyed. “But you might--it +seems to me--be rather more zealous in helping me to preserve her from +the misfortune which threatens her through your own blunder. We cannot +bring her here, but I think that I have thought of a safe hiding-place +for her. + +“Do you remember Apollodorus, the sculptor, to whom we were recommended +by my father, and his kind and friendly wife who set before us +that capital Chios wine? The man owes me a service, for my father +commissioned him and his assistants to execute the mosaic pavement in +the new arcade he was having built in the capitol; and subsequently, +when the envy of rival artists threatened his life, my father saved him. +You yourself heard him say that he and his were all at my disposal.” + +“Certainly, certainly,” said Lysias. “But say, does it not strike you +as most extraordinary that artists, the very men, that is to say, who +beyond all others devote themselves to ideal aims and efforts, are +particularly ready to yield to the basest impulses; envy, detraction, +and--” + +“Man!” exclaimed Publius, angrily interrupting the Greek, “can you never +for ten seconds keep on the same subject, and never keep anything to +yourself that comes into your head? We have just now, as it seems to me, +more important matters to discuss than the jealousy of each other +shown by artists--and in my opinion, by learned men too. The sculptor +Apollodorus, who is thus beholden to me, has been living here for the +last six months with his wife and daughters, for he has been executing +for Philometor the busts of the philosophers, and the animal groups +to decorate the open space in front of the tomb of Apis. His sons are +managers of his large factory in Alexandria, and when he next goes +there, down the Nile in his boat, as often happens, he can take Irene +with him, and put her on board a ship. + +“As to where we can have her taken to keep her safe from Euergetes, we +will talk that over afterwards with Apollodorus.” + +“Good, very good,” agreed the Corinthian. “By Heracles! I am not +suspicious--still it does not altogether please me that you should +yourself conduct Irene to Apollodorus, for if you are seen in her +company our whole project may be shipwrecked. Send the sculptor’s wife, +who is little known in Memphis, to the temple of Isis, and request her +to bring a veil and cloak to conceal the girl. Greet the gay Milesian +from me too, and tell her--no, tell her nothing--I shall see her myself +afterwards at the temple of Isis.” + +During the last words of this conversation, slaves had been enveloping +the two young men in their mantles. They now quitted the tent together, +wished each other success, and set out at a brisk pace; the Roman to +have his horses harnessed, and Lysias to accompany the chief of the +Diadoches in one of the king’s chariots, and then to act on the plan he +had agreed upon with Publius. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +Chariot after chariot hurried out of the great gate of the king’s palace +and into the city, now sunk in slumber. All was still in the great +banqueting-hall, and dark-hued slaves began with brooms and sponges to +clean the mosaic pavement, which was strewed with rose leaves and with +those that had fallen from the faded garlands of ivy and poplar; while +here and there the spilt wine shone with a dark gleam in the dim light +of the few lamps that had not been extinguished. + +A young flute-player, overcome with sleep and wine, still sat in one +corner. The poplar wreath that had crowned his curls had slipped over +his pretty face, but even in sleep he still held his flute clasped fast +in his fingers. The servants let him sleep on, and bustled about without +noticing him; only an overseer pointed to him, and said laughing: + +“His companions went home no more sober than that one. He is a pretty +boy, and pretty Chloes lover besides--she will look for him in vain this +morning.” + +“And to-morrow too perhaps,” answered another; “for if the fat king sees +her, poor Damon will have seen the last of her.” + +But the fat king, as Euergetes was called by the Alexandrians, and, +following their example, by all the rest of Egypt, was not just then +thinking of Chloe, nor of any such person; he was in the bath attached +to his splendidly fitted residence. Divested of all clothing, he was +standing in the tepid fluid which completely filled a huge basin of +white marble. The clear surface of the perfumed water mirrored statues +of nymphs fleeing from the pursuit of satyrs, and reflected the +shimmering light of numbers of lamps suspended from the ceiling. At the +upper end of the bath reclined the bearded and stalwart statue of the +Nile, over whom the sixteen infant figures--representing the number of +ells to which the great Egyptian stream must rise to secure a favorable +inundation--clambered and played to the delight of their noble father +Nile and of themselves. From the vase which supported the arm of the +venerable god flowed an abundant stream of cold water, which five pretty +lads received in slender alabaster vases, and poured over the head and +the enormously prominent muscles of the breast, the back and the arms of +the young king who was taking his bath. + +“More, more--again and again,” cried Euergetes, as the boys began to +pause in bringing and pouring the water; and then, when they threw a +fresh stream over him, he snorted and plunged with satisfaction, and +a perfect shower of jets splashed off him as the blast of his breath +sputtered away the water that fell over his face. + +At last he shouted out: “Enough!” flung himself with all his force into +the water, that spurted up as if a huge block of stone had been thrown +into it, held his head for a long time under water, and then went up the +marble steps of the bath shaking his head violently and mischievously in +his boyish insolence, so as thoroughly to wet his friends and servants +who were standing round the margin of the basin; he suffered himself to +be wrapped in snowy-white sheets of the thinnest and finest linen, to +be sprinkled with costly essences of delicate odor, and then he withdrew +into a small room hung all round with gaudy hangings. + +There he flung himself on a mound of soft cushions, and said with a +deep-drawn breath: “Now I am happy; and I am as sober again as a baby +that has never tasted anything but its mother’s milk. Pindar is right! +there is nothing better than water! and it slakes that raging fire which +wine lights up in our brain and blood. Did I talk much nonsense just +now, Hierax?” + +The man thus addressed, the commander-in-chief of the royal troops, +and the king’s particular friend, cast a hesitating glance at the +bystanders; but, Euergetes desiring him to speak without reserve, he +replied: + +“Wine never weakens the mind of such as you are to the point of folly, +but you were imprudent. It would be little short of a miracle if +Philometor did not remark--” + +“Capital!” interrupted the king sitting up on his cushions. “You, +Hierax, and you, Komanus, remain here--you others may go. But do not +go too far off, so as to be close at hand in case I should need you. In +these days as much happens in a few hours as usually takes place in as +many years.” + +Those who were thus dismissed withdrew, only the king’s dresser, a +Macedonian of rank, paused doubtfully at the door, but Euergetes signed +to him to retire immediately, calling after him: + +“I am very merry and shall not go to bed. At three hours after sunrise +I expect Aristarchus--and for work too. Put out the manuscripts that I +brought. Is the Eunuch Eulaeus waiting in the anteroom? Yes--so much the +better! + +“Now we are alone, my wise friends Hierax and Komanus, and I must +explain to you that on this occasion, out of pure prudence, you seem to +me to have been anything rather than prudent. To be prudent is to have +the command of a wide circle of thought, so that what is close at hand +is no more an obstacle than what is remote. The narrow mind can command +only that which lies close under observation; the fool and visionary +only that which is far off. I will not blame you, for even the wisest +has his hours of folly, but on this occasion you have certainly +overlooked that which is at hand, in gazing at the distance, and I see +you stumble in consequence. If you had not fallen into that error you +would hardly have looked so bewildered when, just now, I exclaimed +‘Capital!’ + +“Now, attend to me. Philometor and my sister know very well what my +humor is, and what to expect of me. If I had put on the mask of a +satisfied man they would have been surprised, and have scented mischief, +but as it was I showed myself to them exactly what I always am and even +more reckless than usual, and talked of what I wanted so openly that +they may indeed look forward to some deed of violence at my hands but +hardly to a treacherous surprise, and that tomorrow; for he who falls on +his enemy in the rear makes no noise about it. + +“If I believed in your casuistry, I might think that to attack the enemy +from behind was not a particularly fine thing to do, for even I would +rather see a man’s face than his rear--particularly in the case of my +brother and sister, who are both handsome to look upon. But what can +a man do? After all, the best thing to do is what wins the victory and +makes the game. Indeed, my mode of warfare has found supporters among +the wise. If you want to catch mice you must waste bacon, and if we are +to tempt men into a snare we must know what their notions and ideas are, +and begin by endeavoring to confuse them. + +“A bull is least dangerous when he runs straight ahead in his fury; +while his two-legged opponent is least dangerous when he does not know +what he is about and runs feeling his way first to the right and then to +the left. Thanks to your approval--for I have deserved it, and I hope to +be able to return it, my friend Hierax. I am curious as to your report. +Shake up the cushion here under my head--and now you may begin.” + +“All appears admirably arranged,” answered the general. “The flower of +our troops, the Diadoches and Hetairoi, two thousand-five hundred men, +are on their way hither, and by to-morrow will encamp north of Memphis. +Five hundred will find their way into the citadel, with the priests +and other visitors to congratulate you on your birthday, the other two +thousand will remain concealed in the tents. The captain of your brother +Philometor’s Philobasilistes is bought over, and will stand by us; +but his price was high--Komanus was forced to offer him twenty talents +before he would bite.” + +“He shall have them,” said the king laughing, “and he shall keep them +too, till it suits me to regard him as suspicious, and to reward him +according to his deserts by confiscating his estates. Well! proceed.” + +“In order to quench the rising in Thebes, the day before yesterday +Philometor sent the best of the mercenaries with the standards of +Desilaus and Arsinoe to the South. Certainly it cost not a little to +bribe the ringleaders, and to stir up the discontent to an outbreak.” + +“My brother will repay us for this outlay,” interrupted the king, “when +we pour his treasure into our own coffers. Go on.” + +“We shall have most difficulty with the priests and the Jews. The former +cling to Philometor, because he is the eldest son of his father, and has +given large bounties to the temples, particularly of Apollinopolis and +Philae; the Jews are attached to him, because he favors them more than +the Greeks, and he, and his wife--your illustrious sister--trouble +themselves with their vain religious squabbles; he disputes with them +about the doctrines contained in their book, and at table too prefers +conversing with them to any one else.” + +“I will salt the wine and meat for them that they fatten on here,” cried +Euergetes vehemently, “I forbade to-day their presence at my table, for +they have good eyes and wits as sharp as their noses. And they are most +dangerous when they are in fear, or can reckon on any gains. + +“At the same time it cannot be denied that they are honest and +tenacious, and as most of them are possessed of some property they +rarely make common cause with the shrieking mob--particularly here in +Alexandria. + +“Envy alone can reproach them for their industry and enterprise, for the +activity of the Hellenes has improved upon the example set by them and +their Phoenician kindred. + +“They thrive best in peaceful times, and since the world runs more +quietly here, under my brother and sister, than under me, they attach +themselves to them, lend my brother money, and supply my sister with cut +stones, sapphires and emeralds, selling fine stuffs and other woman’s +gear for a scrap of written papyrus, which will soon be of no more value +than the feather which falls from the wing of that green screaming bird +on the perch yonder. + +“It is incomprehensible to me that so keen a people cannot perceive +that there is nothing permanent but change, nothing so certain as that +nothing is certain; and that they therefore should regard their god as +the one only god, their own doctrine as absolutely and eternally true, +and that they contemn what other peoples believe. + +“These darkened views make fools of them, but certainly good soldiers +too--perhaps by reason indeed of this very exalted self-consciousness +and their firm reliance on their supreme god.” + +“Yes, they certainly are,” assented Hierax. “But they serve your brother +more willingly, and at a lower price, than us.” + +“I will show them,” cried the king, “that their taste is a perverted and +obnoxious one. I require of the priests that they should instruct the +people to be obedient, and to bear their privations patiently; but the +Jews,” and at these words his eyes rolled with an ominous glare, “the +Jews I will exterminate, when the time comes.” + +“That will be good for our treasury too,” laughed Komanus. + +“And for the temples in the country,” added Euergetes, “for though I +seek to extirpate other foes I would rather win over the priests; and +I must try to win them if Philometor’s kingdom falls into my hands, +for the Egyptians require that their king should be a god; and I cannot +arrive at the dignity of a real god, to whom my swarthy subjects will +pray with thorough satisfaction, and without making my life a burden to +me by continual revolts, unless I am raised to it by the suffrages of +the priests.” + +“And nevertheless,” replied Hierax, who was the only one of Euergetes’ +dependents, who dared to contradict him on important questions, +“nevertheless this very day a grave demand is to be preferred on your +account to the high-priest of Serapis. You press for the surrender of a +servant of the god, and Philometor will not neglect--” + +“Will not neglect,” interrupted Euergetes, “to inform the mighty +Asclepiodorus that he wants the sweet creature for me, and not for +himself. Do you know that Eros has pierced my heart, and that I burn for +the fair Irene, although these eyes have not yet been blessed with the +sight of her? + +“I see you believe me, and I am speaking the exact truth, for I vow I +will possess myself of this infantine Hebe as surely as I hope to win my +brother’s throne; but when I plant a tree, it is not merely to ornament +my garden but to get some use of it. You will see how I will win over +both the prettiest of little lady-loves and the high-priest who, to be +sure, is a Greek, but still a man hard to bend. My tools are all ready +outside there. + +“Now, leave me, and order Eulaeus to join me here.” + +“You are as a divinity,” said Komanus, bowing deeply, “and we but as +frail mortals. Your proceedings often seem dark and incomprehensible to +our weak intellect, but when a course, which to us seems to lead to no +good issue, turns out well, we are forced to admit with astonishment +that you always choose the best way, though often a tortuous one.” + +For a short time the king was alone, sitting with his black brows knit, +and gazing meditatively at the floor. But as soon as he heard the soft +foot-fall of Eulaeus, and the louder step of his guide, he once more +assumed the aspect of a careless and reckless man of the world, shouted +a jolly welcome to Eulaeus, reminded him of his, the king’s, boyhood, +and of how often he, Eulaeus, had helped him to persuade his mother to +grant him some wish she had previously refused him. + +“But now, old boy,” continued the king, “the times are changed, and +with you now-a-days it is everything for Philometor and nothing for poor +Euergetes, who, being the younger, is just the one who most needs your +assistance.” + +Eulaeus bowed with a smile which conveyed that he understood perfectly +how little the king’s last words were spoken in earnest, and he said: + +“I purposed always to assist the weaker of you two, and that is what I +believe myself to be doing now.” + +“You mean my sister?” + +“Our sovereign lady Cleopatra is of the sex which is often unjustly +called the weaker. Though you no doubt were pleased to speak in jest +when you asked that question, I feel bound to answer you distinctly that +it was not Cleopatra that I meant, but King Philometor.” + +“Philometor? Then you have no faith in his strength, you regard me as +stronger than he; and yet, at the banquet to-day, you offered me your +services, and told me that the task had devolved upon you of demanding +the surrender of the little serving-maiden of Serapis, in the king’s +name, of Asclepiodorus, the high-priest. Do you call that aiding the +weaker? But perhaps you were drunk when you told me that? + +“No? You were more moderate than I? Then some other change of views must +have taken place in you; and yet that would very much surprise me, since +your principles require you to aid the weaker son of my mother--” + +“You are laughing at me,” interrupted the courtier with gentle +reproachfulness, and yet in a tone of entreaty. “If I took your side it +was not from caprice, but simply and expressly from a desire to remain +faithful to the one aim and end of my life.” + +“And that is?” + +“To provide for the welfare of this country in the same sense as did +your illustrious mother, whose counsellor I was.” + +“But you forget to mention the other--to place yourself to the best +possible advantage.” + +“I did not forget it, but I did not mention it, for I know how closely +measured out are the moments of a king; and besides, it seems to me as +self-evident that we think of our personal advantage as that when we buy +a horse we also buy his shadow.” + +“How subtle! But I no more blame you than I should a girl who stands +before her mirror to deck herself for her lover, and who takes the same +opportunity of rejoicing in her own beauty. + +“However, to return to your first speech. It is for the sake of Egypt +as you think--if I understand you rightly--that you now offer me the +services you have hitherto devoted to my brother’s interests?” + +“As you say; in these difficult times the country needs the will and the +hand of a powerful leader.” + +“And such a leader you think I am?” + +“Aye, a giant in strength of will, body and intellect--whose desire to +unite the two parts of Egypt in your sole possession cannot fail, if you +strike and grasp boldly, and if--” + +“If?” repeated the king, looking at the speaker so keenly that his eyes +fell, and he answered softly: + +“If Rome should raise no objection.” + +Euergetes shrugged his shoulders, and replied gravely: + +“Rome indeed is like Fate, which always must give the final decision +in everything we do. I have certainly not been behindhand in enormous +sacrifices to mollify that inexorable power, and my representative, +through whose hands pass far greater sums than through those of the +paymasters of the troops, writes me word that they are not unfavorably +disposed towards me in the Senate.” + +“We have learned that from ours also. You have more friends by the Tiber +than Philometor, my own king, has; but our last despatch is already +several weeks old, and in the last few days things have occurred--” + +“Speak!” cried Euergetes, sitting bolt upright on his cushions. “But +if you are laying a trap for me, and if you are speaking now as my +brother’s tool, I will punish you--aye! and if you fled to the uttermost +cave of the Troglodytes I would have you followed up, and you should be +torn in pieces alive, as surely as I believe myself to be the true son +of my father.” + +“And I should deserve the punishment,” replied Eulaeus humbly. Then he +went on: “If I see clearly, great events lie before us in the next few +days.” + +“Yes--truly,” said Euergetes firmly. + +“But just at present Philometor is better represented in Rome than he +has ever been. You made acquaintance with young Publius Scipio at the +king’s table, and showed little zeal in endeavoring to win his good +graces.” + +“He is one of the Cornelii,” interrupted the king, “a distinguished +young man, and related to all the noblest blood of Rome; but he is not +an ambassador; he has travelled from Athens to Alexandria, in order to +learn more than he need; and he carries his head higher and speaks more +freely than becomes him before kings, because the young fellows fancy it +looks well to behave like their elders.” + +“He is of more importance than you imagine.” + +“Then I will invite him to Alexandria, and there will win him over in +three days, as surely as my name is Euergetes.” + +“It will then be too late, for he has to-day received, as I know for +certain, plenipotentiary powers from the Senate to act in their name in +case of need, until the envoy who is to be sent here again arrives.” + +“And I only now learn this for the first time!” cried the king springing +up from his couch, “my friends must be deaf, and blind and dull indeed, +if still I have any, and my servants and emissaries too! I cannot +bear this haughty ungracious fellow, but I will invite him tomorrow +morning--nay I will invite him to-day, to a festive entertainment, and +send him the four handsomest horses that I have brought with me from +Cyrene. I will--” + +“It will all be in vain,” said Eulaeus calmly and dispassionately. “For +he is master, in the fullest and widest meaning of the word, of the +queen’s favor--nay--if I may permit myself to speak out freely--of +Cleopatra’s more than warm liking, and he enjoys this sweetest of gifts +with a thankful heart. Philometor--as he always does--lets matters go as +they may, and Cleopatra and Publius--Publius and Cleopatra triumph even +publicly in their love; gaze into each other’s eyes like any pair of +pastoral Arcadians, exchange cups and kiss the rim on the spot where the +lips of the other have touched it. Promise and grant what you will to +this man, he will stand by your sister; and if you should succeed in +expelling her from the throne he would boldly treat you as Popilius +Laenas did your uncle Antiochus: he would draw a circle round your +person, and say that if you dared to step beyond it Rome would march +against you.” + +Euergetes listened in silence, then, flinging away the draperies that +wrapped his body, he paced up and down in stormy agitation, groaning +from time to time, and roaring like a wild bull that feels itself +confined with cords and bands, and that exerts all its strength in vain +to rend them. + +Finally he stood still in front of Eulaeus and asked him: + +“What more do you know of the Roman?” + +“He, who would not allow you to compare yourself to Alcibiades, is +endeavoring to out-do that darling of the Athenian maidens; for he +is not content with having stolen the heart of the king’s wife, he is +putting out his hand to reach the fairest virgin who serves the +highest of the gods. The water-bearer whom Lysias, the Roman’s friend, +recommended for a Hebe is beloved by Publius, and he hopes to enjoy her +favors more easily in your gay palace than he can in the gloomy temple +of Serapis.” + +At these words the king struck his forehead with his hand, exclaiming: +“Oh! to be a king--a man who is a match for any ten! and to be obliged +to submit with a patient shrug like a peasant whose grain my horsemen +crush into the ground! + +“He can spoil everything; mar all my plans and thwart all my +desires--and I can do nothing but clench my fist, and suffocate with +rage. But this fuming and groaning are just as unavailing as my raging +and cursing by the death-bed of my mother, who was dead all the same and +never got up again. + +“If this Publius were a Greek, a Syrian, an Egyptian--nay, were he my +own brother--I tell you, Eulaeus, he should not long stand in my way; +but he is plenipotentiary from Rome, and Rome is Fate--Rome is Fate.” + +The king flung himself back on to his cushions with a deep sigh, and +as if crushed with despair, hiding his face in the soft pillows; but +Eulaeus crept noiselessly up to the young giant, and whispered in his +ear with solemn deliberateness: + +“Rome is Fate, but even Rome can do nothing against Fate. Publius Scipio +must die because he is ruining your mother’s daughter, and stands in the +way of your saving Egypt. The Senate would take a terrible revenge if +he were murdered, but what can they do if wild beasts fall on their +plenipotentiary, and tear him to pieces?” + +“Grand! splendid!” cried Euergetes, springing again to his feet, and +opening his large eyes with radiant surprise and delight, as if heaven +itself had opened before them, revealing the sublime host of the gods +feasting at golden tables. + +“You are a great man, Eulaeus, and I shall know how to reward you; but +do you know of such wild beasts as we require, and do they know how to +conduct themselves so that no one shall dare to harbor even the shadow +of a suspicion that the wounds torn by their teeth and claws were +inflicted by daggers, pikes or spearheads?” + +“Be perfectly easy,” replied Eulaeus. “These beasts of prey have already +had work to do here in Memphis, and are in the service of the king--” + +“Aha! of my gentle brother!” laughed Euergetes. “And he boasts of never +having killed any one excepting in battle--and now--” + +“But Philometor has a wife,” interposed Eulaeus; and Euergetes went on. + +“Aye, woman, woman! what is there that a man may not learn from a +woman?” + +Then he added in a lower tone: “When can your wild beasts do their +work?” + +“The sun has long since risen; before it sets I will have made my +preparations, and by about midnight, I should think, the deed may be +done. We will promise the Roman a secret meeting, lure him out to the +temple of Serapis, and on his way home through the desert--” + +“Aye, then,--” cried the king, making a thrust at his own breast as +though his hand held a dagger, and he added in warning: “But your beasts +must be as powerful as lions, and as cautious-as cautious, as cats. If +you want gold apply to Komanus, or, better still, take this purse. Is +it enough? Still I must ask you; have you any personal ground of hatred +against the Roman?” + +“Yes,” answered Eulaeus decisively. “He guesses that I know all about +him and his doings, and he has attacked me with false accusations which +may bring me into peril this very day. If you should hear that the queen +has decided on throwing me into prison, take immediate steps for my +liberation.” + +“No one shall touch a hair of your head; depend upon that. I see that it +is to your interest to play my game, and I am heartily glad of it, for +a man works with all his might for no one but himself. And now for the +last thing: When will you fetch my little Hebe?” + +“In an hour’s time I am going to Asclepiodorus; but we must not demand +the girl till to-morrow, for today she must remain in the temple as a +decoy-bird for Publius Scipio.” + +“I will take patience; still I have yet another charge to give you. +Represent the matter to the high-priest in such a way that he +shall think my brother wishes to gratify one of my fancies by +demanding--absolutely demanding--the water-bearer on my behalf. Provoke +the man as far as is possible without exciting suspicion, and if I know +him rightly, he will stand upon his rights, and refuse you persistently. +Then, after you, will come Komanus from me with greetings and gifts and +promises. + +“To-morrow, when we have done what must be done to the Roman, you shall +fetch the girl in my brother’s name either by cunning or by force; and +the day after, if the gods graciously lend me their aid in uniting the +two realms of Egypt under my own hand, I will explain to Asclepiodorus +that I have punished Philometor for his sacrilege against his temple, +and have deposed him from the throne. Serapis shall see which of us is +his friend. + +“If all goes well, as I mean that it shall, I will appoint you Epitropon +of the re-united kingdom--that I swear to you by the souls of my +deceased ancestors. I will speak with you to-day at any hour you may +demand it.” + +Eulaeus departed with a step as light as if his interview with the king +had restored him to youth. + +When Hierax, Komanus, and the other officers returned to the room, +Euergetes gave orders that his four finest horses from Cyrene should be +led before noonday to his friend Publius Cornelius Scipio, in token of +his affection and respect. Then he suffered himself to be dressed, and +went to Aristarchus with whom he sat down to work at his studies. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +The temple of Serapis lay in restful silence, enveloped in darkness, +which so far hid its four wings from sight as to give it the aspect of a +single rock-like mass wrapped in purple mist. + +Outside the temple precincts too all had been still; but just now a +clatter of hoofs and rumble of wheels was audible through the silence, +otherwise so profound that it seemed increased by every sound. Before +the vehicle which occasioned this disturbance had reached the temple, +it stopped, just outside the sacred acacia-grove, for the neighing of a +horse was now audible in that direction. + +It was one of the king’s horses that neighed; Lysias, the Greek, tied +him up to a tree by the road at the edge of the grove, flung his mantle +over the loins of the smoking beast; and feeling his way from tree to +tree soon found himself by the Well of the Sun where he sat down on the +margin. + +Presently from the east came a keen, cold breeze, the harbinger of +sunrise; the gray gloaming began by degrees to pierce and part the tops +of the tall trees, which, in the darkness, had seemed a compact black +roof. The crowing of cocks rang out from the court-yard of the temple, +and, as the Corinthian rose with a shiver to warm himself by a rapid +walk backwards and forwards, he heard a door creak near the outer wall +of the temple, of which the outline now grew sharper and clearer every +instant in the growing light. + +He now gazed with eager observation down the path which, as the day +approached, stood out with increasing clearness from the surrounding +shades, and his heart began to beat faster as he perceived a figure +approaching the well, with rapid steps. It was a human form that +advanced towards him--only one--no second figure accompanied it; but it +was not a man--no, a woman in a long robe. Still, she for whom he waited +was surely smaller than the woman, who now came near to him. Was it the +elder and not the younger sister, whom alone he was anxious to speak +with, who came to the well this morning? + +He could now distinguish her light foot-fall--now she was divided from +him by a young acacia-shrub which hid her from his gaze-now she set +down two water-jars on the ground--now she briskly lifted the bucket and +filled the vessel she held in her left hand--now she looked towards the +eastern horizon, where the dim light of dawn grew broader and brighter, +and Lysias thought he recognized Irene--and now--Praised be the gods! +he was sure; before him stood the younger and not the elder sister; the +very maiden whom he sought. + +Still half concealed by the acacia-shrub, and in a soft voice so as not +to alarm her, he called Irene’s name, and the poor child’s blood froze +with terror, for never before had she been startled by a man here, and +at this hour. She stood as if rooted to the spot, and, trembling with +fright, she pressed the cold, wet, golden jar, sacred to the god, +closely to her bosom. + +Lysias repeated her name, a little louder than before, and went on, but +in a subdued voice: + +“Do not be frightened, Irene; I am Lysias, the Corinthian--your friend, +whose pomegranate-blossom you wore yesterday, and who spoke to you after +the procession. Let me bid you good morning!” + +At these words the girl let her hand fall by her side, still holding the +jar, and pressing her right hand to her heart, she exclaimed, drawing a +deep breath: + +“How dreadfully you frightened me! I thought some wandering soul was +calling me that had not yet returned to the nether world, for it is not +till the sun rises that spirits are scared away.” + +“But it cannot scare men of flesh and blood whose purpose is good. I, +you may believe me, would willingly stay with you, till Helios departs +again, if you would permit me.” + +“I can neither permit nor forbid you anything,” answered Irene. “But, +how came you here at this hour?” + +“In a chariot,” replied Lysias smiling. + +“That is nonsense--I want to know what you came to the Well of the Sun +for at such an hour.” + +“I What but for you yourself? You told me yesterday that you were glad +to sleep, and so am I; still, to see you once more, I have been only to +glad to shorten my night’s rest considerably.” + +“But, how did you know?” + +“You yourself told me yesterday at what time you were allowed to leave +the temple.” + +“Did I tell you? Great Serapis! how light it is already. I shall be +punished if the water-jar is not standing on the altar by sunrise, and +there is Klea’s too to be filled.” + +“I will fill it for you directly--there--that is done; and now I will +carry them both for you to the end of the grove, if you will promise me +to return soon, for I have many things to ask you.” + +“Go on--only go on,” said the girl; “I know very little; but ask away, +though you will not find much to be made of any answers that I can +give.” + +“Oh! yes, indeed, I shall--for instance, if I asked you to tell me all +about your parents. My friend Publius, whom you know, and I also have +heard how cruelly and unjustly they were punished, and we would gladly +do much to procure their release.” + +“I will come--I will be sure to come,” cried Irene loudly and eagerly, +“and shall I bring Klea with me? She was called up in the middle of the +night by the gatekeeper, whose child is very ill. My sister is very fond +of it, and Philo will only take his medicine from her. The little one +had gone to sleep in her lap, and his mother came and begged me to fetch +the water for us both. Now give me the jars, for none but we may enter +the temple.” + +“There they are. Do not disturb your sister on my account in her care of +the poor little boy, for I might indeed have one or two things to say to +you which she need not hear, and which might give you pleasure. Now, I +am going back to the well, so farewell! But do not let me have to wait +very long for you.” He spoke in a tender tone of entreaty, and the girl +answered low and rapidly as she hurried away from him: + +“I will come when the sun is up.” + +The Corinthian looked after her till she had vanished within the temple, +and his heart was stirred--stirred as it had not been for many years. +He could not help recalling the time when he would teaze his younger +sister, then still quite a child, putting her to the test by asking her, +with a perfectly grave face, to give him her cake or her apple which +he did not really want at all. The little one had almost always put the +thing he asked for to his mouth with her tiny hands, and then he had +often felt exactly as he felt now. + +Irene too was still but a child, and no less guileless than his darling +in his own home; and just as his sister had trusted him--offering him +the best she had to give--so this simple child trusted him; him, the +profligate Lysias, before whom all the modest women of Corinth cast +down their eyes, while fathers warned their growing-up sons against him; +trusted him with her virgin self--nay, as he thought, her sacred person. + +“I will do thee no harm, sweet child!” he murmured to himself, as he +presently turned on his heel to return to the well. He went forward +quickly at first, but after a few steps he paused before the marvellous +and glorious picture that met his gaze. Was Memphis in flames? Had fire +fallen to burn up the shroud of mist which had veiled his way to the +temple? + +The trunks of the acacia-trees stood up like the blackened pillars of a +burning city, and behind them the glow of a conflagration blazed high +up to the heavens. Beams of violet and gold slipped and sparkled between +the boughs, and danced among the thorny twigs, the white racemes of +flowers, and the tufts of leaves with their feathery leaflets; the +clouds above were fired with tints more pure and tender than those of +the roses with which Cleopatra had decked herself for the banquet. + +Not like this did the sun rise in his own country! Or, was it perhaps +only that in Corinth or in Athens at break of day, as he staggered +home drunk from some feast, he had looked more at the earth than at the +heavens? + +His horses began now to neigh loudly as if to greet the steeds of the +coming Sun-god. Lysias hurried to them through the grove, patted their +shining necks with soothing words, and stood looking down at the vast +city at his feet, over which hung a film of violet mist--at the solemn +Pyramids, over which the morning glow flung a gay robe of rose-color--on +the huge temple of Ptah, with the great colossi in front of its +pylons--on the Nile, mirroring the glory of the sky, and on the +limestone hills behind the villages of Babylon and Troy, about which he +had, only yesterday, heard a Jew at the king’s table relating a legend +current among his countrymen to the effect that these hills had been +obliged to give up all their verdure to grace the mounts of the sacred +city Hierosolyma. + +The rocky cliffs of this barren range glowed at this moment like the +fire in the heart of the great ruby which had clasped the festal robe of +King Euergetes across his bull-neck, as it reflected the shimmer of +the tapers: and Lysias saw the day-star rising behind the range with +blinding radiance, shooting forth rays like myriads of golden arrows, to +rout and destroy his foe, the darkness of night. + +Eos, Helios, Phoebus Apollo--these had long been to him no more than +names, with which he associated certain phenomena, certain processes and +ideas; for he when he was not luxuriating in the bath, amusing himself +in the gymnasium, at cock or quail-fights, in the theatre or at +Dionysiac processions--was wont to exercise his wits in the schools +of the philosophers, so as to be able to shine in bandying words at +entertainments; but to-day, and face to face with this sunrise, he +believed as in the days of his childhood--he saw in his mind’s eye the +god riding in his golden chariot, and curbing his foaming steeds, his +shining train floating lightly round him, bearing torches or scattering +flowers--he threw up his arms with an impulse of devotion, praying +aloud: + +“To-day I am happy and light of heart. To thy presence do I owe this, +O! Phoebus Apollo, for thou art light itself. Oh! let thy favors +continue--” + +But he here broke off in his invocation, and dropped his arms, for he +heard approaching footsteps. Smiling at his childish weakness--for such +he deemed it that he should have prayed--and yet content from his pious +impulse, he turned his back on the sun, now quite risen, and stood face +to face with Irene who called out to him: + +“I was beginning to think that you had got out of patience and had gone +away, when I found you no longer by the well. That distressed me--but +you were only watching Helios rise. I see it every day, and yet it +always grieves me to see it as red as it was to-day, for our Egyptian +nurse used to tell me that when the east was very red in the morning it +was because the Sun-god had slain his enemies, and it was their blood +that colored the heavens, and the clouds and the hills.” + +“But you are a Greek,” said Lysias, “and you must know that it is Eos +that causes these tints when she touches the horizon with her rosy +fingers before Helios appears. Now to-day you are, to me, the rosy dawn +presaging a fine day.” + +“Such a ruddy glow as this,” said Irene, “forebodes great heat, storms, +and perhaps heavy rain, so the gatekeeper says; and he is always with +the astrologers who observe the stars and the signs in the heavens from +the towers near the temple-gates. He is poor little Philo’s father. I +wanted to bring Klea with me, for she knows more about our parents than +I do; but he begged me not to call her away, for the child’s throat is +almost closed up, and if it cries much the physician says it will choke, +and yet it is never quiet but when it is lying in Klea’s arms. She is so +good--and she never thinks of herself; she has been ever since midnight +till now rocking that heavy child on her lap.” + +“We will talk with her presently,” said the Corinthian. “But to-day it +was for your sake that I came; you have such merry eyes, and your +little mouth looks as if it were made for laughing, and not to sing +lamentations. How can you bear being always in that shut up dungeon with +all those solemn men in their black and white robes?” + +“There are some very good and kind ones among them. I am most fond of +old Krates, he looks gloomy enough at every one else; but with me only +he jokes and talks, and he often shows me such pretty and elegantly +wrought things.” + +“Ah! I told you just now you are like the rosy dawn before whom all +darkness must vanish.” + +“If only you could know how thoughtless I can be, and how often I give +trouble to Klea, who never scolds me for it, you would be far from +comparing me with a goddess. Little old Krates, too, often compares me +to all sorts of pretty things, but that always sounds so comical that I +cannot help laughing. I had much rather listen to you when you flatter +me.” + +“Because I am young and youth suits with youth. Your sister is older, +and so much graver than you are. Have you never had a companion of +your own age whom you could play with, and to whom you could tell +everything?” + +“Oh! yes when I was still very young; but since my parents fell into +trouble, and we have lived here in the temple, I have always been alone +with Klea. What do you want to know about my father?” + +“That I will ask you by-and-by. Now only tell me, have you never played +at hide and seek with other girls? May you never look on at the merry +doings in the streets at the Dionysiac festivals? Have you ever ridden +in a chariot?” + +“I dare say I have, long ago--but I have forgotten it. How should I have +any chance of such things here in the temple? Klea says it is no good +even to think of them. She tells me a great deal about our parents--how +my mother took care of us, and what my father used to say. Has anything +happened that may turn out favorably for him? Is it possible that the +king should have learned the truth? Make haste and ask your questions at +once, for I have already been too long out here.” + +The impatient steeds neighed again as she spoke, and Lysias, to whom +this chat with Irene was perfectly enchanting, but who nevertheless had +not for a moment lost sight of his object, hastily pointed to the spot +where his horses were standing, and said: + +“Did you hear the neighing of those mettlesome horses? They brought me +hither, and I can guide them well; nay, at the last Isthmian games I won +the crown with my own quadriga. You said you had never ridden standing +in a chariot. How would you like to try for once how it feels? I will +drive you with pleasure up and down behind the grove for a little +while.” + +Irene heard this proposal with sparkling eyes and cried, as she clapped +her hands: + +“May I ride in a chariot with spirited horses, like the queen? Oh! +impossible! Where are your horses standing?” + +In this instant she had forgotten Klea, the duty which called her back +to the temple, even her parents, and she followed the Corinthian with +winged steps, sprang into the two-wheeled chariot, and clung fast to the +breastwork, as Lysias took his place by her side, seized the reins, +and with a strong and practised hand curbed the mettle of his spirited +steeds. + +She stood perfectly guileless and undoubting by his side, and wholly +at his mercy as the chariot rattled off; but, unknown to herself, +beneficent powers were shielding her with buckler and armor--her +childlike innocence, and that memory of her parents which her tempter +himself had revived in her mind, and which soon came back in vivid +strength. + +Breathing deep with excitement, and filled with such rapture as a bird +may feel when it first soars from its narrow nest high up into the ether +she cried out again and again: + +“Oh, this is delightful! this is splendid!” and then: + +“How we rush through the air as if we were swallows! Faster, Lysias, +faster! No, no--that is too fast; wait a little that I may not fall! Oh, +I am not frightened; it is too delightful to cut through the air just +as a Nile boat cuts through the stream in a storm, and to feel it on my +face and neck.” + +Lysias was very close to her; when, at her desire, he urged his horses +to their utmost pace, and saw her sway, he involuntarily put out his +hand to hold her by the girdle; but Irene avoided his grasp, pressing +close against the side of the chariot next her, and every time he +touched her she drew her arm close up to her body, shrinking together +like the fragile leaf of a sensitive plant when it is touched by some +foreign object. + +She now begged the Corinthian to allow her to hold the reins for a +little while, and he immediately acceded to her request, giving them +into her hand, though, stepping behind her, he carefully kept the ends +of them in his own. He could now see her shining hair, the graceful oval +of her head, and her white throat eagerly bent forward; an indescribable +longing came over him to press a kiss on her head; but he forbore, for +he remembered his friend’s words that he would fulfil the part of a +guardian to these girls. He too would be a protector to her, aye and +more than that, he would care for her as a father might. Still, as often +as the chariot jolted over a stone, and he touched her to support her, +the suppressed wish revived, and once when her hair was blown quite +close to his lips he did indeed kiss it--but only as a friend or a +brother might. Still, she must have felt the breath from his lips, for +she turned round hastily, and gave him back the reins; then, pressing +her hand to her brow, she said in a quite altered voice--not unmixed +with a faint tone of regret: + +“This is not right--please now to turn the horses round.” + +Lysias, instead of obeying her, pulled at the reins to urge the horses +to a swifter pace, and before he could find a suitable answer, she had +glanced up at the sun, and pointing to the east she exclaimed: + +“How late it is already! what shall I say if I have been looked for, and +they ask me where I have been so long? Why don’t you turn round--nor ask +me anything about my parents?” + +The last words broke from her with vehemence, and as Lysias did not +immediately reply nor make any attempt to check the pace of the horses, +she herself seized the reins exclaiming: + +“Will you turn round or no?” + +“No!” said the Greek with decision. “But--” + +“And this is what you intended!” shrieked the girl, beside herself. “You +meant to carry me off by stratagem--but wait, only wait--” + +And before Lysias could prevent her she had turned round, and was +preparing to spring from the chariot as it rushed onwards; but her +companion was quicker than she; he clutched first at her robe and then +her girdle, put his arm round her waist, and in spite of her resistance +pulled her back into the chariot. + +Trembling, stamping her little feet and with tears in her eyes, she +strove to free her girdle from his grasp; he, now bringing his horses to +a stand-still, said kindly but earnestly: + +“What I have done is the best that could happen to you, and I will even +turn the horses back again if you command it, but not till you have +heard me; for when I got you into the chariot by stratagem it was +because I was afraid that you would refuse to accompany me, and yet I +knew that every delay would expose you to the most hideous peril. I did +not indeed take a base advantage of your father’s name, for my friend +Publius Scipio, who is very influential, intends to do everything in his +power to procure his freedom and to reunite you to him. But, Irene, +that could never have happened if I had left you where you have hitherto +lived.” + +During this discourse the girl had looked at Lysias in bewilderment, and +she interrupted him with the exclamation: + +“But I have never done any one an injury! Who can gain any benefit by +persecuting a poor creature like me: + +“Your father was the most righteous of men,” replied Lysias, “and +nevertheless he was carried off into torments like a criminal. It is not +only the unrighteous and the wicked that are persecuted. Have you ever +heard of King Euergetes, who, at his birth, was named the ‘well-doer,’ +and who has earned that of the ‘evil doer’ by his crimes? He has heard +that you are fair, and he is about to demand of the high-priest that he +should surrender you to him. If Asclepiodorus agrees--and what can he +do against the might of a king--you will be made the companion of +flute-playing girls and painted women, who riot with drunken men at his +wild carousals and orgies, and if your parents found you thus, better +would it be for them--” + +“Is it true, all you are telling me?” asked Irene with flaming cheeks. + +“Yes,” answered Lysias firmly. “Listen Irene--I have a father and a +dear mother and a sister, who is like you, and I swear to you by their +heads--by those whose names never passed my lips in the presence of any +other woman I ever sued to--that I am speaking the simple truth; that I +seek nothing but only to save you; that if you desire it, as soon as I +have hidden you I will never see you again, terribly hard as that +would be to me--for I love you so dearly, so deeply--poor sweet little +Irene--as you can never imagine.” + +Lysias took the girl’s hand, but she withdrew it hastily, and raising +her eyes, full of tears, to meet his she said clearly and firmly: + +“I believe you, for no man could speak like that and betray another. But +how do you know all this? Where are you taking me? Will Klea follow me?” + +“At first you shall be concealed with the family of a worthy sculptor. +We will let Klea know this very day of all that has happened to you, and +when we have obtained the release of your parents then--but--Help us, +protecting Zeus! Do you see the chariot yonder? I believe those are the +white horses of the Eunuch Eulaeus, and if he were to see us here, all +would be lost! Hold tight, we must go as fast as in a chariot race. +There, now the hill hides us, and down there, by the little temple of +Isis, the wife of your future host is already waiting for you; she is no +doubt sitting in the closed chariot near the palm-trees. + +“Yes, certainly, certainly, Klea shall hear all, so that she may not +be uneasy about you! I must say farewell to you directly and then, +afterwards, sweet Irene, will you sometimes think of the unhappy Lysias; +or did Aurora, who greeted him this morning, so bright and full of happy +promise, usher in a day not of joy but of sorrow and regret?” The Greek +drew in rein as he spoke, bringing his horses to a sober pace, and +looked tenderly in Irene’s eyes. She returned his gaze with heart-felt +emotion, but her gunny glance was dimmed with tears. + +“Say something,” entreated the Greek. “Will you not forget me? And may I +soon visit you in your new retreat?” + +Irene would so gladly have said yes--and yes again, a thousand times +yes; and yet she, who was so easily carried away by every little emotion +of her heart, in this supreme moment found strength enough to snatch +her hand from that of the Greek, who had again taken it, and to answer +firmly: + +“I will remember you for ever and ever, but you must not come to see me +till I am once more united to my Klea.” + +“But Irene, consider, if now--” cried Lysias much agitated. + +“You swore to me by the heads of your nearest kin to obey my wishes,” + interrupted the girl. “Certainly I trust you, and all the more readily +because you are so good to me, but I shall not do so any more if you do +not keep your word. Look, here comes a lady to meet us who looks like +a friend. She is already waving her hand to me. Yes, I will go with her +gladly, and yet I am so anxious--so troubled, I cannot tell you--but I +am so thankful too! Think of me sometimes, Lysias, and of our journey +here, and of our talk, and of my parents: I entreat you, do for them all +you possibly can. I wish I could help crying--but I cannot!” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +Lysias eyes had not deceived him. The chariot with white horses which he +had evaded during his flight with Irene belonged to Eulaeus. The morning +being cool--and also because Cleopatra’s lady-in-waiting was with +him--he had come out in a closed chariot, in which he sat on soft +cushions side by side with the Macedonian lady, endeavoring to win her +good graces by a conversation, witty enough in its way. + +“On the way there,” thought he, “I will make her quite favorable to me, +and on the way back I will talk to her of my own affairs.” + +The drive passed quickly and pleasantly for both, and they neither of +them paid any heed to the sound of the hoofs of the horses that were +bearing away Irene. + +Eulaeus dismounted behind the acacia-grove, and expressed a hope that +Zoe would not find the time very long while he was engaged with the +high-priest; perhaps indeed, he remarked, she might even make some use +of the time by making advances to the representative of Hebe. + +But Irene had been long since warmly welcomed in the house of +Apollodorus, the sculptor, by the time they once more found themselves +together in the chariot; Eulaeus feigning, and Zoe in reality feeling, +extreme dissatisfaction at all that had taken place in the temple. The +high-priest had rejected Philometor’s demand that he should send +the water-bearer to the palace on King Euergetes’ birthday, with a +decisiveness which Eulaeus would never have given him credit for, for he +had on former occasions shown a disposition to measures of compromise; +while Zoe had not even seen the waterbearer. + +“I fancy,” said the queen’s shrewd friend, “that I followed you somewhat +too late, and that when I entered the temple about half an hour after +you--having been detained first by Imhotep, the old physician, and then +by an assistant of Apollodorus, the sculptor, with some new busts of +the philosophers--the high-priest had already given orders that the girl +should be kept concealed; for when I asked to see her, I was conducted +first to her miserable room, which seemed more fit for peasants or goats +than for a Hebe, even for a sham one--but I found it perfectly deserted. + +“Then I was shown into the temple of Serapis, where a priest was +instructing some girls in singing, and then sent hither and thither, +till at last, finding no trace whatever of the famous Irene, I came to +the dwelling-house of the gate-keeper of the temple. + +“An ungainly woman opened the door, and said that Irene had been gone +from thence for some long time, but that her elder sister was there, +so I desired she might be fetched to speak with me. And what, if you +please, was the answer I received? The goddess Klea--I call her so as +being sister to a Hebe--had to nurse a sick child, and if I wanted to +see her I might go in and find her. + +“The tone of the message quite conveyed that the distance from her down +to me was as great as in fact it is the other way. However, I thought +it worth the trouble to see this supercilious water-bearing girl, and I +went into a low room--it makes me sick now to remember how it smelt +of poverty--and there she sat with an idiotic child, dying on her lap. +Everything that surrounded me was so revolting and dismal that it will +haunt my dreams with terror for weeks to come and spoil all my cheerful +hours. + +“I did not remain long with these wretched creatures, but I must +confess that if Irene is as like to Hebe as her elder sister is to Hera, +Euergetes has good grounds for being angry if Asclepiodorus keeps the +girl from him. + +“Many a queen--and not least the one whom you and I know so +intimately-would willingly give half of her kingdom to possess such a +figure and such a mien as this serving-girl. And then her eyes, as she +looked at me when she rose with that little gasping corpse in her arms, +and asked me what I wanted with her sister! + +“There was an impressive and lurid glow in those solemn eyes, which +looked as if they had been taken out of some Medusa’s head to be set in +her beautiful face. And there was a sinister threat in them too which +seemed to say: ‘Require nothing of her that I do not approve of, or you +will be turned into stone on the spot.’ She did not answer twenty words +to my questions, and when I once more tasted the fresh air outside, +which never seemed to me so pleasant as by contrast with that horrible +hole, I had learnt no more than that no one knew--or chose to know--in +what corner the fair Irene was hidden, and that I should do well to make +no further enquiries. + +“And now, what will Philometor do? What will you advise him to do?” + +“What cannot be got at by soft words may sometimes be obtained by a +sufficiently large present,” replied Eulaeus. “You know very well that +of all words none is less familiar to these gentry than the little word +‘enough’; but who indeed is really ready to say it? + +“You speak of the haughtiness and the stern repellent demeanor of our +Hebe’s sister. I have seen her too, and I think that her image might be +set up in the Stoa as a happy impersonation of the severest virtue: and +yet children generally resemble their parents, and her father was the +veriest peculator and the most cunning rascal that ever came in my way, +and was sent off to the gold-mines for very sufficient reasons. And for +the sake of the daughter of a convicted criminal you have been driven +through the dust and the scorching heat, and have had to submit to her +scorn and contemptuous airs, while I am threatened with grave peril on +her account, for you know that Cleopatra’s latest whim is to do honor to +the Roman, Publius Scipio; he, on the other hand, is running after our +Hebe, and, having promised her that he will obtain an unqualified pardon +for her father, he will do his utmost to throw the odium of his robbery +upon me. + +“The queen is to give him audience this very day, and you cannot know +how many enemies a man makes who, like me, has for many years been one +of the leading men of a great state. The king acknowledges, and with +gratitude, all that I have done for him and for his mother; but if, at +the moment when Publius Scipio accuses me, he is more in favor with her +than ever, I am a lost man. + +“You are always with the queen; do you tell her who these girls are, and +what motives the Roman has for loading me with their father’s crimes; +and some opportunity must offer for doing you and your belongings some +friendly office or another.” + +“What a shameless crew!” exclaimed Zoe. “Depend upon it I will not +be silent, for I always do what is just. I cannot bear seeing others +suffering an injustice, and least of all that a man of your merit and +distinction should be wounded in his honor, because a haughty foreigner +takes a fancy to a pretty little face and a conceited doll of a girl.” + +Zoe was in the right when she found the air stifling in the +gate-keeper’s house, for poor Irene, unaccustomed to such an atmosphere, +could no more endure it than the pretentious maid of honor. It cost +even Klea an effort to remain in the wretched room, which served as the +dwelling-place of the whole family; where the cooking was carried on +at a smoky hearth, while, at night, it also sheltered a goat and a few +fowls; but she had endured even severer trials than this for the sake of +what she deemed right, and she was so fond of little Philo--her anxious +care in arousing by degrees his slumbering intelligence had brought her +so much soothing satisfaction, and the child’s innocent gratitude +had been so tender a reward--that she wholly forgot the repulsive +surroundings as soon as she felt that her presence and care were +indispensable to the suffering little one. + +Imhotep, the most famous of the priest-physicians of the temple of +Asclepius--a man who was as learned in Greek as in Egyptian medical +lore, and who had been known by the name of “the modern Herophilus” + since King Philometor had summoned him from Alexandria to Memphis--had +long since been watchful of the gradual development of the dormant +intelligence of the gate-keeper’s child, whom he saw every day in his +visits to the temple. Now, not long after Zoe had quitted the house, he +came in to see the sick child for the third time. Klea was still holding +the boy on her lap when he entered. On a wooden stool in front of +her stood a brazier of charcoal, and on it a small copper kettle the +physician had brought with him; to this a long tube was attached. The +tube was in two parts, joined together by a leather joint, also tubular, +in such a way that the upper portion could be turned in any direction. +Klea from time to time applied it to the breast of the child, and, in +obedience to Imhotep’s instructions, made the little one inhale the +steam that poured out of it. + +“Has it had the soothing effect it ought to have?” asked the physician. + +“Yes, indeed, I think so,” replied Klea, “There is not so much noise in +the chest when the poor little fellow draws his breath.” + +The old man put his ear to the child’s mouth, laid his hand on his brow, +and said: + +“If the fever abates I hope for the best. This inhaling of steam is an +excellent remedy for these severe catarrhs, and a venerable one besides; +for in the oldest writings of Hermes we find it prescribed as an +application in such cases. But now he has had enough of it. Ah! this +steam--this steam! Do you know that it is stronger than horses or oxen, +or the united strength of a whole army of giants? That diligent enquirer +Hero of Alexandria discovered this lately. + +“But our little invalid has had enough of it, we must not overheat him. +Now, take a linen cloth--that one will do though it is not very fine. +Fold it together, wet it nicely with cold water--there is some in that +miserable potsherd there--and now I will show you how to lay it on the +child’s throat. + +“You need not assure me that you understand me, Klea, for you have +hands--neat hands--and patience without end! Sixty-five years have I +lived, and have always had good health, but I could almost wish to be +ill for once, in order to be nursed by you. That poor child is well +off better than many a king’s child when it is sick; for him hireling +nurses, no doubt, fetch and do all that is necessary, but one thing they +cannot give, for they have it not; I mean the loving and indefatigable +patience by which you have worked a miracle on this child’s mind, and +are now working another on his body. Aye, aye, my girl; it is to you and +not me that this woman will owe her child if it is preserved to her. +Do you hear me, woman? and tell your husband so too; and if you do not +reverence Klea as a goddess, and do not lay your hands beneath her feet, +may you be--no--I will wish you no ill, for you have not too much of the +good things of life as it is!” + +As he spoke the gate-keeper’s wife came timidly up to the physician and +the sick child, pushed her rough and tangled hair off her forehead +a little, crossed her lean arms at full length behind her back, +and, looking down with out-stretched neck at the boy, stared in dumb +amazement at the wet cloths. Then she timidly enquired: + +“Are the evil spirits driven out of the child?” + +“Certainly,” replied the physician. “Klea there has exorcised them, and +I have helped her; now you know.” + +“Then I may go out for a little while? I have to sweep the pavement of +the forecourt.” + +Klea nodded assent, and when the woman had disappeared the physician +said: + +“How many evil demons we have to deal with, alas! and how few good ones. +Men are far more ready and willing to believe in mischievous spirits +than in kind or helpful ones; for when things go ill with them--and it +is generally their own fault when they do--it comforts them and flatters +their vanity if only they can throw the blame on the shoulders of evil +spirits; but when they are well to do, when fortune smiles on them of +course, they like to ascribe it to themselves, to their own cleverness +or their superior insight, and they laugh at those who admonish them of +the gratitude they owe to the protecting and aiding demons. I, for +my part, think more of the good than of the evil spirits, and you, my +child, without doubt are one of the very best. + +“You must change the compress every quarter of an hour, and between +whiles go out into the open air, and let the fresh breezes fan your +bosom--your cheeks look pale. At mid-day go to your own little room, and +try to sleep. Nothing ought to be overdone, so you are to obey me.” + +Klea replied with a friendly and filial nod, and Imhotep stroked down +her hair; then he left; she remained alone in the stuffy hot room, which +grew hotter every minute, while she changed the wet cloths for the +sick child, and watched with delight the diminishing hoarseness and +difficulty of his breathing. From time to time she was overcome by a +slight drowsiness, and closed her eyes for a few minutes, but only for a +short while; and this half-awake and half-asleep condition, chequered +by fleeting dreams, and broken only by an easy and pleasing duty, this +relaxation of the tension of mind and body, had a certain charm of +which, through it all, she remained perfectly conscious. Here she was +in her right place; the physicians kind words had done her good, and +her anxiety for the little life she loved was now succeeded by a +well-founded hope of its preservation. + +During the night she had already come to a definite resolution, to +explain to the high-priest that she could not undertake the office of +the twin-sisters, who wept by the bier of Osiris, and that she would +rather endeavor to earn bread by the labor of her hands for herself and +Irene--for that Irene should do any real work never entered her mind--at +Alexandria, where even the blind and the maimed could find occupation. +Even this prospect, which only yesterday had terrified her, began now +to smile upon her, for it opened to her the possibility of proving +independently the strong energy which she felt in herself. + +Now and then the figure of the Roman rose before her mind’s eye, and +every time that this occurred she colored to her very forehead. But +to-day she thought of this disturber of her peace differently from +yesterday; for yesterday she had felt herself overwhelmed by him with +shame, while to-day it appeared to her as though she had triumphed over +him at the procession, since she had steadily avoided his glance, and +when he had dared to approach her she had resolutely turned her back +upon him. This was well, for how could the proud foreigner expose +himself again to such humiliation. + +“Away, away--for ever away!” she murmured to herself, and her eyes and +brow, which had been lighted up by a transient smile, once more assumed +the expression of repellent sternness which, the day before, had +so startled and angered the Roman. Soon however the severity of her +features relaxed, as she saw in fancy the young man’s beseeching look, +and remembered the praise given him by the recluse, and as--in the +middle of this train of thought--her eyes closed again, slumber once +more falling upon her spirit for a few minutes, she saw in her dream +Publius himself, who approached her with a firm step, took her in +his arms like a child, held her wrists to stop her struggling hands, +gathered her up with rough force, and then flung her into a canoe lying +at anchor by the bank of the Nile. + +She fought with all her might against this attack and seizure, screamed +aloud with fury, and woke at the sound of her own voice. Then she got +up, dried her eyes that were wet with tears, and, after laying a freshly +wetted cloth on the child’s throat, she went out of doors in obedience +to the physician’s advice. + +The sun was already at the meridian, and its direct rays were fiercely +reflected from the slabs of yellow sandstone that paved the forecourt. +On one side only of the wide, unroofed space, one of the colonnades that +surrounded it threw a narrow shade, hardly a span wide; and she would +not go there, for under it stood several beds on which lay pilgrims +who, here in the very dwelling of the divinity, hoped to be visited with +dreams which might give them an insight into futurity. + +Klea’s head was uncovered, and, fearing the heat of noon, she was about +to return into the door-keeper’s house, when she saw a young white-robed +scribe, employed in the special service of Asclepiodorus, who came +across the court beckoning eagerly to her. She went towards him, but +before he had reached her he shouted out an enquiry whether her sister +Irene was in the gate-keeper’s lodge; the high-priest desired to speak +with her, and she was nowhere to be found. Klea told him that a grand +lady from the queen’s court had already enquired for her, and that the +last time she had seen her had been before daybreak, when she was going +to fill the jars for the altar of the god at the Well of the Sun. + +“The water for the first libation,” answered the priest, “was placed on +the altar at the right time, but Doris and her sister had to fetch it +for the second and third. Asclepiodorus is angry--not with you, for he +knows from Imhotep that you are taking care of a sick child--but with +Irene. Try and think where she can be. Something serious must have +occurred that the high-priest wishes to communicate to her.” + +Klea was startled, for she remembered Irene’s tears the evening before, +and her cry of longing for happiness and freedom. Could it be that the +thoughtless child had yielded to this longing, and escaped without her +knowledge, though only for a few hours, to see the city and the gay life +there? + +She collected herself so as not to betray her anxiety to the messenger, +and said with downcast eyes: + +“I will go and look for her.” + +She hurried back into the house, once more looked to the sick child, +called his mother and showed her how to prepare the compresses, urging +her to follow Imhotep’s directions carefully and exactly till she should +return; she pressed one loving kiss on little Philo’s forehead--feeling +as she did so that he was less hot than he had been in the morning--and +then she left, going first to her own dwelling. + +There everything stood or lay exactly as she had left it during the +night, only the golden jars were wanting. This increased Klea’s alarm, +but the thought that Irene should have taken the precious vessels with +her, in order to sell them and to live on the proceeds, never once +entered her mind, for her sister, she knew, though heedless and easily +persuaded, was incapable of any base action. + +Where was she to seek the lost girl? Serapion, the recluse, to whom she +first addressed herself, knew nothing of her. + +On the altar of Serapis, whither she next went, she found both the +vessels, and carried them back to her room. + +Perhaps Irene had gone to see old Krates, and while watching his work +and chattering to him, had forgotten the flight of time--but no, the +priest-smith, whom she sought in his workshop, knew nothing of the +vanished maiden. He would willingly have helped Klea to seek for his +favorite, but the new lock for the tombs of the Apis had to be finished +by mid-day, and his swollen feet were painful. + +Klea stood outside the old man’s door sunk in thought, and it occurred +to her that Irene had often, in her idle hours, climbed up into the +dove-cot belonging to the temple, to look out from thence over the +distant landscape, to visit the sitting birds, to stuff food into the +gaping beaks of the young ones, or to look up at the cloud of soaring +doves. The pigeon-house, built up of clay pots and Nile-mud, stood on +the top of the storehouse, which lay adjoining the southern boundary +wall of the temple. + +She hastened across the sunny courts and slightly shaded alleys, and +mounted to the flat roof of the storehouse, but she found there neither +the old dove-keeper nor his two grandsons who helped him in his work, +for all three were in the anteroom to the kitchen, taking their dinner +with the temple-servants. + +Klea shouted her sister’s name; once, twice, ten times--but no one +answered. It was just as if the fierce heat of the sun burnt up the +sound as it left her lips. She looked into the first pigeon-house, the +second, the third, all the way to the last. The numberless little clay +tenements of the brisk little birds threw out a glow like a heated oven; +but this did not hinder her from hunting through every nook and corner. +Her cheeks were burning, drops of perspiration stood on her brow, +and she had much difficulty in freeing herself from the dust of the +pigeon-houses, still she was not discouraged. + +Perhaps Irene had gone into the Anubidium, or sanctuary of Asclepius, +to enquire as to the meaning of some strange vision, for there, with +the priestly physicians, lived also a priestess who could interpret +the dreams of those who sought to be healed even better than a certain +recluse who also could exercise that science. The enquirers often had to +wait a long time outside the temple of Asclepius, and this consideration +encouraged Klea, and made her insensible to the burning southwest wind +which was now rising, and to the heat of the sun; still, as she returned +to the Pastophorium--slowly, like a warrior returning from a defeat--she +suffered severely from the heat, and her heart was wrung with anguish +and suspense. + +Willingly would she have cried, and often heaved a groan that was more +like a sob, but the solace of tears to relieve her heart was still +denied to her. + +Before going to tell Asclepiodorus that her search had been +unsuccessful, she felt prompted once more to talk with her friend, the +anchorite; but before she had gone far enough even to see his cell, +the high-priest’s scribe once more stood in her way, and desired her to +follow him to the temple. There she had to wait in mortal impatience for +more than an hour in an ante room. At last she was conducted into a room +where Asclepiodorus was sitting with the whole chapter of the priesthood +of the temple of Serapis. + +Klea entered timidly, and had to wait again some minutes in the presence +of the mighty conclave before the high-priest asked her whether she +could give any information as to the whereabouts of the fugitive, and +whether she had heard or observed anything that could guide them on her +track, since he, Asclepiodorus, knew that if Irene had run away secretly +from the temple she must be as anxious about her as he was. + +Klea had much difficulty in finding words, and her knees shook as she +began to speak, but she refused the seat which was brought for her by +order of Asclepiodorus. She recounted in order all the places where she +had in vain sought her sister, and when she mentioned the sanctuary of +Asclepius, and a recollection came suddenly and vividly before her of +the figure of a lady of distinction, who had come there with a number +of slaves and waiting-maids to have a dream interpreted, Zoe’s visit to +herself flashed upon her memory; her demeanor--at first so over-friendly +and then so supercilious--and her haughty enquiries for Irene. + +She broke off in her narrative, and exclaimed: + +“I am sure, holy father, that Irene has not fled of her own free +impulse, but some one perhaps may have lured her into quitting the +temple and me; she is still but a child with a wavering mind. Could it +possibly be that a lady of rank should have decoyed her into going with +her? Such a person came to-day to see me at the door-keeper’s lodge. +She was richly dressed and wore a gold crescent in her light wavy hair, +which was plaited with a silk ribband, and she asked me urgently about +my sister. Imhotep, the physician, who often visits at the king’s +palace, saw her too, and told me her name is Zoe, and that she is +lady-in-waiting to Queen Cleopatra.” + +These words occasioned the greatest excitement throughout the conclave +of priests, and Asclepiodorus exclaimed: + +“Oh! women, women! You indeed were right, Philammon; I could not and +would not believe it! Cleopatra has done many things which are forgiven +only in a queen, but that she should become the tool of her brother’s +basest passions, even you, Philammon, could hardly regard as likely, +though you are always prepared to expect evil rather than good. But now, +what is to be done? How can we protect ourselves against violence and +superior force?” + +Klea had appeared before the priests with cheeks crimson and glowing +from the noontide heat, but at the high-priest’s last words the blood +left her face, she turned ashy-pale, and a chill shiver ran through her +trembling limbs. Her father’s child--her bright, innocent Irene--basely +stolen for Euergetes, that licentious tyrant of whose wild deeds +Serapion had told her only last evening, when he painted the dangers +that would threaten her and Irene if they should quit the shelter of the +sanctuary. + +Alas, it was too true! They had tempted away her darling child, her +comfort and delight, lured her with splendor and ease, only to sink +her in shame! She was forced to cling to the back of the chair she had +disdained, to save herself from falling. + +But this weakness overmastered her for a few minutes only; she boldly +took two hasty steps up to the table behind which the high-priest +was sitting, and, supporting herself with her right hand upon it, she +exclaimed, while her voice, usually so full and sonorous, had a hoarse +tone: + +“A woman has been the instrument of making another woman unworthy of the +name of woman! and you--you, the protectors of right and virtue--you who +are called to act according to the will and mind of the gods whom you +serve--you are too weak to prevent it? If you endure this, if you do +not put a stop to this crime you are not worthy--nay, I will not be +interrupted--you, I say, are unworthy of the sacred title and of the +reverence you claim, and I will appeal--” + +“Silence, girl!” cried Asclepiodorus to the terribly excited Klea. +“I would have you imprisoned with the blasphemers, if I did not well +understand the anguish which has turned your brain. We will interfere +on behalf of the abducted girl, and you must wait patiently in silence. +You, Callimachus, must at once order Ismael, the messenger, to saddle +the horses, and ride to Memphis to deliver a despatch from me to the +queen; let us all combine to compose it, and subscribe our names as soon +as we are perfectly certain that Irene has been carried off from these +precincts. Philammon, do you command that the gong be sounded which +calls together all the inhabitants of the temple; and you, my girl, quit +this hall, and join the others.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +Klea obeyed the high-priest’s command at once, and wandered--not knowing +exactly whither--from one corridor to another of the huge pile, till she +was startled by the sound of the great brazen plate, struck with mighty +blows, which rang out to the remotest nook and corner of the precincts. +This call was for her too, and she went forthwith into the great +court of assembly, which at every moment grew fuller and fuller. The +temple-servants and the keepers of the beasts, the gate-keepers, +the litter-bearers, the water-carriers-all streamed in from their +interrupted meal, some wiping their mouths as they hurried in, or still +holding in their hands a piece of bread, a radish, or a date which they +hastily munched; the washer-men and women came in with hands still wet +from washing the white robes of the priests, and the cooks arrived with +brows still streaming from their unfinished labors. Perfumes floated +round from the unwashed hands of the pastophori, who had been busied in +the laboratories in the preparation of incense, while from the library +and writing-rooms came the curators and scribes and the officials of +the temple counting-house, their hair in disorder, and their light +working-dress stained with red or black. The troop of singers, male +and female, came in orderly array, just as they had been assembled for +practice, and with them came the faded twins to whom Klea and Irene had +been designated as successors by Asclepiodorus. Then came the pupils of +the temple-school, tumbling noisily into the court-yard in high delight +at this interruption to their lessons. The eldest of these were sent +to bring in the great canopy under which the heads of the establishment +might assemble. + +Last of all appeared Asclepiodorus, who handed to a young scribe a +complete list of all the inhabitants and members of the temple, that he +might read it out. This he proceeded to do; each one answered with an +audible “Here” as his name was called, and for each one who was absent +information was immediately given as to his whereabouts. + +Klea had joined the singing-women, and awaited in breathless anxiety a +long-endlessly long-time for the name of her sister to be called; for it +was not till the very smallest of the school-boys and the lowest of the +neat-herds had answered, “Here,” that the scribe read out, “Klea, the +water-bearer,” and nodded to her in answer as she replied “Here!” + +Then his voice seemed louder than before as he read. “Irene, the +water-bearer.” + +No answer following on these words, a slight movement, like the bowing +wave that flies over a ripe cornfield when the morning breeze sweeps +across the ears, was evident among the assembled inhabitants of the +temple, who waited in breathless silence till Asclepiodorus stood forth, +and said in a distinct and audible voice: + +“You have all met here now at my call. All have obeyed it excepting +those holy men consecrated to Serapis, whose vows forbid their breaking +their seclusion, and Irene, the water-bearer. Once more I call, ‘Irene,’ +a second, and a third time--and still no answer; I now appeal to you all +assembled here, great and small, men and women who serve Serapis. Can +any one of you give any information as to the whereabouts of this young +girl? Has any one seen her since, at break of day, she placed the first +libation from the Well of the Sun on the altar of the god? You are all +silent! Then no one has met her in the course of this day? Now, one +question more, and whoever can answer it stand forth and speak the words +of truth. + +“By which gate did this lady of rank depart who visited the temple early +this morning?--By the eastern gate--good. + +“Was she alone?--She was. + +“By which gate did the epistolographer Eulaeus depart?--By the east. + +“Was he alone?--He was. + +“Did any one here present meet the chariot either of the lady or of +Eulaeus?” + +“I did,” cried a car-driver, whose daily duty it was to go to Memphis +with his oxen and cart to fetch provisions for the kitchen, and other +necessaries. + +“Speak,” said the high-priest. + +“I saw,” replied the man, “the white horses of my Lord Eulaeus hard +by the vineyard of Khakem; I know them well. They were harnessed to a +closed chariot, in which besides himself sat a lady.” + +“Was it Irene?” asked Asclepiodorus. + +“I do not know,” replied the tarter, “for I could not see who sat in the +chariot, but I heard the voice of Eulaeus, and then a woman’s laugh. She +laughed so heartily that I had to screw my mouth up myself, it tickled +me so.” + +While Klea supposed this description to apply to Irene’s merry +laugh-which she had never thought of with regret till this moment--the +high-priest exclaimed: + +“You, keeper of the eastern gate, did the lady and Eulaeus enter and +leave this sanctuary together?” + +“No,” was the answer. “She came in half an hour later than he did, and +she quitted the temple quite alone and long after the eunuch.” + +“And Irene did not pass through your gate, and cannot have gone out by +it?--I ask you in the name of the god we serve!” + +“She may have done so, holy father,” answered the gate-keeper in much +alarm. “I have a sick child, and to look after him I went into my room +several times; but only for a few minutes at a time-still, the gate +stands open, all is quiet in Memphis now.” + +“You have done very wrong,” said Asclepiodorus severely, “but since you +have told the truth you may go unpunished. We have learned enough. All +you gate-keepers now listen to me. Every gate of the temple must be +carefully shut, and no one--not even a pilgrim nor any dignitary from +Memphis, however high a personage he may be--is to enter or go out +without my express permission; be as alert as if you feared an attack, +and now go each of you to his duties.” + +The assembly dispersed; these to one side, those to another. + +Klea did not perceive that many looked at her with suspicion as +though she were responsible for her sister’s conduct, and others with +compassion; she did not even notice the twin-sisters, whose place she +and Irene were to have filled, and this hurt the feelings of the good +elderly maidens, who had to perform so much lamenting which they did not +feel at all, that they eagerly seized every opportunity of expressing +their feelings when, for once in a way, they were moved to sincere +sorrow. But neither these sympathizing persons nor any other of the +inhabitants of the temple, who approached Klea with the purpose of +questioning or of pitying her, dared to address her, so stern and +terrible was the solemn expression of her eyes which she kept fixed upon +the ground. + +At last she remained alone in the great court; her heart beat faster +unusual, and strange and weighty thoughts were stirring in her soul. +One thing was clear to her: Eulaeus--her father’s ruthless foe and +destroyer--was now also working the fall of the child of the man he +had ruined, and, though she knew it not, the high-priest shared her +suspicions. She, Klea, was by no means minded to let this happen without +an effort at defence, and it even became clearer and clearer to her mind +that it was her duty to act, and without delay. In the first instance +she would ask counsel of her friend Serapion; but as she approached his +cell the gong was sounded which summoned the priests to service, and at +the same time warned her of her duty of fetching water. + +Mechanically, and still thinking of nothing but Irene’s deliverance, she +fulfilled the task which she was accustomed to perform every day at the +sound of this brazen clang, and went to her room to fetch the golden +jars of the god. + +As she entered the empty room her cat sprang to meet her with two leaps +of joy, putting up her back, rubbing her soft head against her feet with +her fine bushy tail ringed with black stripes set up straight, as +cats are wont only when they are pleased. Klea was about to stroke the +coaxing animal, but it sprang back, stared at her shyly, and, as she +could not help thinking, angrily with its green eyes, and then shrank +back into the corner close to Irene’s couch. + +“She mistook me!” thought Klea. “Irene is more lovable than I even to a +beast, and Irene, Irene--” She sighed deeply at the name, and would have +sunk down on her trunk there to consider of new ways and means--all of +which however she was forced to reject as foolish and impracticable--but +on the chest lay a little shirt she had begun to make for little +Philo, and this reminded her again of the sick child and of the duty of +fetching the water. + +Without further delay she took up the jars, and as she went towards the +well she remembered the last precepts that had been given her by her +father, whom she had once been permitted to visit in prison. Only a few +detached sentences of this, his last warning speech, now came into +her mind, though no word of it had escaped her memory; it ran much as +follows: + +“It may seem as though I had met with an evil recompense from the gods +for my conduct in adhering to what I think just and virtuous; but it +only seems so, and so long as I succeed in living in accordance with +nature, which obeys an everlasting law, no man is justified in accusing +me. My own peace of mind especially will never desert me so long as I do +not set myself to act in opposition to the fundamental convictions of my +inmost being, but obey the doctrines of Zeno and Chrysippus. This peace +every one may preserve, aye, even you, a woman, if you constantly do +what you recognize to be right, and fulfil the duties you take upon +yourself. The very god himself is proof and witness of this doctrine, +for he grants to him who obeys him that tranquillity of spirit which +must be pleasing in his eyes, since it is the only condition of the soul +in which it appears to be neither fettered and hindered nor tossed and +driven; while he, on the contrary, who wanders from the paths of virtue +and of her daughter, stern duty, never attains peace, but feels the +torment of an unsatisfied and hostile power, which with its hard grip +drags his soul now on and now back. + +“He who preserves a tranquil mind is not miserable, even in misfortune, +and thankfully learns to feel con tented in every state of life; and +that because he is filled with those elevated sentiments which are +directly related to the noblest portion of his being--those, I mean--of +justice and goodness. Act then, my child, in conformity with justice +and duty, regardless of any ulterior object, without considering +whether your action will bring you pleasure or pain, without fear of the +judgment of men or the envy of the gods, and you will win that peace of +mind which distinguishes the wise from the unwise, and may be happy +even in adverse circumstances; for the only real evil is the dominion of +wickedness, that is to say the unreason which rebels against nature, and +the only true happiness consists in the possession of virtue. He alone, +however, can call virtue his who possesses it wholly, and sins not +against it in the smallest particular; for there is no difference of +degrees either in good or in evil, and even the smallest action opposed +to duty, truth or justice, though punishable by no law, is a sin, and +stands in opposition to virtue. + +“Irene,” thus Philotas had concluded his injunctions, “cannot as yet +understand this doctrine, but you are grave and have sense beyond your +years. Repeat this to her daily, and when the time comes impress on your +sister--towards whom you must fill the place of a mother--impress on her +heart these precepts as your father’s last will and testament.” + +And now, as Klea went towards the well within the temple-wall to fetch +water, she repeated to herself many of these injunctions; she felt +herself encouraged by them, and firmly resolved not to give her sister +up to the seducer without a struggle. + +As soon as the vessels for libation at the altar were filled she +returned to little Philo, whose state seemed to her to give no further +cause for anxiety; after staying with him for more than an hour she left +the gate-keeper’s dwelling to seek Serapion’s advice, and to divulge +to him all she had been able to plan and consider in the quiet of the +sick-room. + +The recluse was wont to recognize her step from afar, and to be looking +out for her from his window when she went to visit him; but to-day he +heard her not, for he was stepping again and again up and down the few +paces which the small size of his tiny cell allowed him to traverse. +He could reflect best when he walked up and down, and he thought +and thought again, for he had heard all that was known in the temple +regarding Irene’s disappearance; and he would, he must rescue her--but +the more he tormented his brain the more clearly he saw that every +attempt to snatch the kidnapped girl from the powerful robber must in +fact be vain. + +“And it must not, it shall not be!” he had cried, stamping his great +foot, a few minutes before Klea reached his cell; but as soon as he was +aware of her presence he made an effort to appear quite easy, and cried +out with the vehemence which characterized him even in less momentous +circumstances: + +“We must consider, we must reflect, we must puzzle our brains, for the +gods have been napping this morning, and we must be doubly wide-awake. +Irene--our little Irene--and who would have thought it yesterday! It is +a good-for-nothing, unspeakably base knave’s trick--and now, what can +we do to snatch the prey from the gluttonous monster, the savage wild +beast, before he can devour our child, our pet little one? + +“Often and often I have been provoked at my own stupidity, but never, +never have I felt so stupid, such a godforsaken blockhead as I do now. +When I try to consider I feel as if that heavy shutter had been nailed +clown on my head. Have you had any ideas? I have not one which would not +disgrace the veriest ass--not a single one.” + +“Then you know everything?” asked Klea, “even that it is probably our +father’s enemy, Eulaeus, who has treacherously decoyed the poor child to +go away with him?” + +“Yes, Yes!” cried Serapion, “wherever there is some scoundrel’s trick +to be played he must have a finger in the pie, as sure as there must +be meal for bread to be made. But it is a new thing to me that on this +occasion he should be Euergetes’ tool. Old Philammon told me all about +it. Just now the messenger came back from Memphis, and brought a paltry +scrap of papyrus on which some wretched scribbler had written in the +name of Philometer, that nothing was known of Irene at court, and +complaining deeply that Asclepiodorus had not hesitated to play +an underhand game with the king. So they have no idea whatever of +voluntarily releasing our child.” + +“Then I shall proceed to do my duty,” said Klea resolutely. “I shall go +to Memphis, and fetch my sister.” + +The anchorite stared at the girl in horror, exclaiming: “That is folly, +madness, suicide! Do you want to throw two victims into his jaws instead +of one?” + +“I can protect myself, and as regards Irene, I will claim the queen’s +assistance. She is a woman, and will never suffer--” + +“What is there in this world that she will not suffer if it can procure +her profit or pleasure? Who knows what delightful thing Euergetes may +not have promised her in return for our little maid? No, by Serapis! no, +Cleopatra will not help you, but--and that is a good idea--there is one +who will to a certainty. We must apply to the Roman Publius Scipio, and +he will have no difficulty in succeeding.” + +“From him,” exclaimed Klea, coloring scarlet, “I will accept neither +good nor evil; I do not know him, and I do not want to know him.” + +“Child, child!” interrupted the recluse with grave chiding. “Does your +pride then so far outweigh your love, your duty, and concern for Irene? +What, in the name of all the gods, has Publius done to you that you +avoid him more anxiously than if he were covered with leprosy? There +is a limit to all things, and now--aye, indeed--I must out with it come +what may, for this is not the time to pretend to be blind when I see +with both eyes what is going on--your heart is full of the Roman, and +draws you to him; but you are an honest girl, and, in order to remain +so, you fly from him because you distrust yourself, and do not know what +might happen if he were to tell you that he too has been hit by one of +Eros’ darts. You may turn red and white, and look at me as if I were +your enemy, and talking contemptible nonsense. I have seen many strange +things, but I never saw any one before you who was a coward out of sheer +courage, and yet of all the women I know there is not one to whom fear +is less known than my bold and resolute Klea. The road is a hard one +that you must take, but only cover your poor little heart with a coat +of mail, and venture in all confidence to meet the Roman, who is an +excellent good fellow. No doubt it will be hard to you to crave a boon, +but ought you to shrink from those few steps over sharp stones? Our poor +child is standing on the edge of the abyss; if you do not arrive at the +right time, and speak the right words to the only person who is able to +help in this matter, she will be thrust into the foul bog and sink in +it, because her brave sister was frightened at--herself!” + +Klea had cast down her eyes as the anchorite addressed her thus; she +stood for some time frowning at the ground in silence, but at last she +said, with quivering lips and as gloomily as if she were pronouncing a +sentence on herself. + +“Then I will ask the Roman to assist me; but how can I get to him?” + +“Ah!--now my Klea is her father’s daughter once more,” answered +Serapion, stretching out both his arms towards her from the little +window of his cell; and then he went on: “I can make the painful path +somewhat smoother for you. My brother Glaucus, who is commander of the +civic guard in the palace, you already know; I will give you a few +words of recommendation to him, and also, to lighten your task, a little +letter to Publius Scipio, which shall contain a short account of the +matter in hand. If Publius wishes to speak with you yourself go to him +and trust him, but still more trust yourself. + +“Now go, and when you have once more filled the water-jars come back +to me, and fetch the letters. The sooner you can go the better, for it +would be well that you should leave the path through the desert behind +you before nightfall, for in the dark there are often dangerous tramps +about. You will find a friendly welcome at my sister Leukippa’s; she +lives in the toll-house by the great harbor--show her this ring and she +will give you a bed, and, if the gods are merciful, one for Irene too.” + +“Thank you, father,” said Klea, but she said no more, and then left him +with a rapid step. + +Serapion looked lovingly after her; then he took two wooden tablets +faced with wax out of his chest, and, with a metal style, he wrote on +one a short letter to his brother, and on the other a longer one to the +Roman, which ran as follows: + +“Serapion, the recluse of Serapis, to Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, +the Roman. + +“Serapion greets Publius Scipio, and acquaints him that Irene, the +younger sister of Klea, the water-bearer, has disappeared from this +temple, and, as Serapion suspects, by the wiles of the epistolographer +Eulaeus, whom we both know, and who seems to have acted under the orders +of King Ptolemy Euergetes. Seek to discover where Irene can be. Save her +if thou canst from her ravishers, and conduct her back to this temple or +deliver her in Memphis into the hands of my sister Leukippa, the wife +of the overseer of the harbor, named Hipparchus, who dwells in the +toll-house. May Serapis preserve thee and thine.” + +The recluse had just finished his letters when Klea returned to him. The +girl hid them in the folds of the bosom of her robe, said farewell to +her friend, and remained quite grave and collected, while Serapion, with +tears in his eyes, stroked her hair, gave her his parting blessing, +and finally even hung round her neck an amulet for good luck, that +his mother had worn--it was an eye in rock-crystal with a protective +inscription. Then, without any further delay, she set out towards the +temple gate, which, in obedience to the commands of the high priest, was +now locked. The gate-keeper--little Philo’s father--sat close by on a +stone bench, keeping guard. In a friendly tone Klea asked him to open +the gate; but the anxious official would not immediately comply with +her request, but reminded her of Asclepiodorus’ strict injunctions, and +informed her that the great Roman had demanded admission to the temple +about three hours since, but had been refused by the high-priest’s +special orders. He had asked too for her, and had promised to return on +the morrow. + +The hot blood flew to Klea’s face and eyes as she heard this news. Could +Publius no more cease to think of her than she of him? Had Serapion +guessed rightly? “The darts of Eros”--the recluse’s phrase flashed +through her mind, and struck her heart as if it were itself a winged +arrow; it frightened her and yet she liked it, but only for one brief +instant, for the utmost distrust of her own weakness came over her +again directly, and she told herself with a shudder that she was on the +high-road to follow up and seek out the importunate stranger. + +All the horrors of her undertaking stood vividly before her, and if she +had now retraced her steps she would not have been without an excuse to +offer to her own conscience, since the temple-gate was closed, and might +not be opened to any one, not even to her. + +For a moment she felt a certain satisfaction in this flattering +reflection, but as she thought again of Irene her resolve was once more +confirmed, and going closer up to the gate-keeper she said with great +determination: + +“Open the gate to me without delay; you know that I am not accustomed +to do or to desire anything wrong. I beg of you to push back the bolt at +once.” + +The man to whom Klea had done many kindnesses, and whom Imhotep had that +very day told that she was the good spirit of his house, and that he +ought to venerate her as a divinity--obeyed her orders, though with some +doubt and hesitation. The heavy bolt flew back, the brazen gate opened, +the water-bearer stepped out, flung a dark veil over her head, and set +out on her walk. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A paved road, with a row of Sphinxes on each side, led from the Greek +temple of Serapis to the rock-hewn tombs of Apis, and the temples and +chapels built over them, and near them; in these the Apis bull after its +death--or “in Osiris” as the phrase went--was worshipped, while, so long +as it lived, it was taken care of and prayed to in the temple to which +it belonged, that of the god Ptah at Memphis. After death these sacred +bulls, which were distinguished by peculiar marks, had extraordinarily +costly obsequies; they were called the risen Ptah, and regarded as the +symbol of the soul of Osiris, by whose procreative power all that dies +or passes away is brought to new birth and new life--the departed soul +of man, the plant that has perished, and the heavenly bodies that have +set. Osiris-Sokari, who was worshipped as the companion of Osiris, +presided over the wanderings which had to be performed by the seemingly +extinct spirit before its resuscitation as another being in a new form; +and Egyptian priests governed in the temples of these gods, which were +purely Egyptian in style, and which had been built at a very early date +over the tomb-cave of the sacred bulls. And even the Greek ministers of +Serapis, settled at Memphis, were ready to follow the example of their +rulers and to sacrifice to Osiris-Apis, who was closely allied to +Serapis--not only in name but in his essential attributes. Serapis +himself indeed was a divinity introduced from Asia into the Nile +valley by the Ptolemies, in order to supply to their Greek and Egyptian +subjects alike an object of adoration, before whose altars they could +unite in a common worship. They devoted themselves to the worship of +Apis in Osiris at the shrines, of Greek architecture, and containing +stone images of bulls, that stood outside the Egyptian sanctuary, and +they were very ready to be initiated into the higher significance of +his essence; indeed, all religious mysteries in their Greek home bore +reference to the immortality of the soul and its fate in the other +world. + +Just as two neighboring cities may be joined by a bridge, so the Greek +temple of Serapis--to which the water-bearers belonged--was connected +with the Egyptian sanctuary of Osiris-Apis by the fine paved road for +processions along which Klea now rapidly proceeded. There was a shorter +way to Memphis, but she chose this one, because the mounds of sand on +each side of the road bordered by Sphinxes--which every day had to +be cleared of the desert-drift--concealed her from the sight of her +companions in the temple; besides the best and safest way into the +city was by a road leading from a crescent, decorated with busts of +the philosophers, that lay near the principal entrance to the new Apis +tombs. + +She looked neither at the lion-bodies with men’s heads that guarded the +way, nor at the images of beasts on the wall that shut it in; nor did +she heed the dusky-hued temple-slaves of Osiris-Apis who were sweeping +the sand from the paved way with large brooms, for she thought of +nothing but Irene and the difficult task that lay before her, and she +walked swiftly onwards with her eyes fixed on the ground. + +But she had taken no more than a few steps when she heard her name +called quite close to her, and looking up in alarm she found herself +standing opposite Krates, the little smith, who came close up to her, +took hold of her veil, threw it back a little before she could prevent +him, and asked: + +“Where are you off to, child?” + +“Do not detain me,” entreated Klea. “You know that Irene, whom you are +always so fond of, has been carried off; perhaps I may be able to save +her, but if you betray me, and if they follow me--” + +“I will not hinder you,” interrupted the old man. “Nay, if it were not +for these swollen feet I would go with you, for I can think of nothing +else but the poor dear little thing; but as it is I shall be glad enough +when I am sitting still again in my workshop; it is exactly as if a +workman of my own trade lived in each of my great toes, and was dancing +round in them with hammer and file and chisel and nails. Very likely you +may be so fortunate as to find your sister, for a crafty woman succeeds +in many things which are too difficult for a wise man. Go on, and if +they seek for you old Krates will not betray you.” + +He nodded kindly at Klea, and had already half turned his back on her +when he once more looked round, and called out to her: + +“Wait a minute, girl--you can do me a little service. I have just +fitted a new lock to the door of the Apis-tomb down there. It answers +admirably, but the one key to it which I have made is not enough; we +require four, and you shall order them for me of the locksmith Heri, +to be sent the day after to-morrow; he lives opposite the gate of +Sokari--to the left, next the bridge over the canal--you cannot miss it. +I hate repeating and copying as much as I like inventing and making new +things, and Heri can work from a pattern just as well as I can. If it +were not for my legs I would give the man my commission myself, for he +who speaks by the lips of a go-between is often misunderstood or not +understood at all.” + +“I will gladly save you the walk,” replied Klea, while the Smith sat +down on the pedestal of one of the Sphinxes, and opening the leather +wallet which hung by his side shook out the contents. A few files, +chisels, and nails fell out into his lap; then the key, and finally a +sharp, pointed knife with which Krates had cut out the hollow in the +door for the insertion of the lock; Krates touched up the pattern-key +for the smith in Memphis with a few strokes of the file, and then, +muttering thoughtfully and shaking his head doubtfully from side to +side, he exclaimed: + +“You still must come with me once more to the door, for I require +accurate workmanship from other people, and so I must be severe upon my +own.” + +“But I want so much to reach Memphis before dark,” besought Klea. + +“The whole thing will not take a minute, and if you will give me your +arm I shall go twice as fast. There are the files, there is the knife.” + +“Give it me,” Klea requested. “This blade is sharp and bright, and as +soon as I saw it I felt as if it bid me take it with me. Very likely I +may have to come through the desert alone at night.” + +“Aye,” said the smith, “and even the weakest feels stronger when he has +a weapon. Hide the knife somewhere about you, my child, only take care +not to hurt yourself with it. Now let me take your arm, and on we will +go--but not quite so fast.” + +Klea led the smith to the door he indicated, and saw with admiration +how unfailingly the bolt sprang forward when one half of the door closed +upon the other, and how easily the key pushed it back again; then, after +conducting Krates back to the Sphinx near which she had met him, she +went on her way at her quickest pace, for the sun was already very low, +and it seemed scarcely possible to reach Memphis before it should set. + +As she approached a tavern where soldiers and low people were accustomed +to resort, she was met by a drunken slave. She went on and past him +without any fear, for the knife in her girdle, and on which she kept her +hand, kept up her courage, and she felt as if she had thus acquired +a third hand which was more powerful and less timid than her own. A +company of soldiers had encamped in front of the tavern, and the wine of +Kbakem, which was grown close by, on the eastern declivity of the Libyan +range, had an excellent savor. The men were in capital spirits, for at +noon today--after they had been quartered here for months as guards of +the tombs of Apis and of the temples of the Necropolis--a commanding +officer of the Diadoches had arrived at Memphis, who had ordered them +to break up at once, and to withdraw into the capital before nightfall. +They were not to be relieved by other mercenaries till the next morning. + +All this Klea learned from a messenger from the Egyptian temple in +the Necropolis, who recognized her, and who was going to Memphis, +commissioned by the priests of Osiris-Apis and Sokari to convey a +petition to the king, praying that fresh troops might be promptly sent +to replace those now withdrawn. + +For some time she went on side by side with this messenger, but soon she +found that she could not keep up with his hurried pace, and had to fall +behind. In front of another tavern sat the officers of the troops, +whose noisy mirth she had heard as she passed the former one; they were +sitting over their wine and looking on at the dancing of two Egyptian +girls, who screeched like cackling hens over their mad leaps, and who +so effectually riveted the attention of the spectators, who were beating +time for them by clapping their hands, that Klea, accelerating her step, +was able to slip unobserved past the wild crew. All these scenes, +nay everything she met with on the high-road, scared the girl who was +accustomed to the silence and the solemn life of the temple of Serapis, +and she therefore struck into a side path that probably also led to the +city which she could already see lying before her with its pylons, its +citadel and its houses, veiled in evening mist. In a quarter of an hour +at most she would have crossed the desert, and reach the fertile meadow +land, whose emerald hue grew darker and darker every moment. The sun +was already sinking to rest behind the Libyan range, and soon after, for +twilight is short in Egypt, she was wrapped in the darkness of night. +The westwind, which had begun to blow even at noon, now rose higher, +and seemed to pursue her with its hot breath and the clouds of sand it +carried with it from the desert. + +She must certainly be approaching water, for she heard the deep pipe of +the bittern in the reeds, and fancied she breathed a moister air. A few +steps more, and her foot sank in mud; and she now perceived that she was +standing on the edge of a wide ditch in which tall papyrus-plants were +growing. The side path she had struck into ended at this plantation, and +there was nothing to be done but to turn about, and to continue her walk +against the wind and with the sand blowing in her face. + +The light from the drinking-booth showed her the direction she must +follow, for though the moon was up, it is true, black clouds swept +across it, covering it and the smaller lights of heaven for many minutes +at a time. Still she felt no fatigue, but the shouts of the men and the +loud cries of the women that rang out from the tavern filled her with +alarm and disgust. She made a wide circuit round the hostelry, wading +through the sand hillocks and tearing her dress on the thorns and +thistles that had boldly struck deep root in the desert, and had grown +up there like the squalid brats in the hovel of a beggar. But still, as +she hurried on by the high-road, the hideous laughter and the crowing +mirth of the dancing-girls still rang in her mind’s ear. + +Her blood coursed more swiftly through her veins, her head was on fire, +she saw Irene close before her, tangibly distinct--with flowing hair +and fluttering garments, whirling in a wild dance like a Moenad at a +Dionysiac festival, flying from one embrace to another and shouting and +shrieking in unbridled folly like the wretched girls she had seen on her +way. She was seized with terror for her sister--an unbounded dread such +as she had never felt before, and as the wind was now once more behind +her she let herself be driven on by it, lifting her feet in a swift run +and flying, as if pursued by the Erinnyes, without once looking round +her and wholly forgetful of the smith’s commission, on towards the city +along the road planted with trees, which as she knew led to the gate of +the citadel. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +In front of the gate of the king’s palace sat a crowd of petitioners who +were accustomed to stay here from early dawn till late at night, until +they were called into the palace to receive the answer to the petition +they had drawn up. When Klea reached the end of her journey she was +so exhausted and bewildered that she felt the imperative necessity of +seeking rest and quiet reflection, so she seated herself among these +people, next to a woman from Upper Egypt. But hardly had she taken her +place by her with a silent greeting, when her talkative neighbor began +to relate with particular minuteness why she had come to Memphis, and +how certain unjust judges had conspired with her bad husband to trick +her--for men were always ready to join against a woman--and to deprive +her of everything which had been secured to her and her children by her +marriage-contract. For two months now, she said, she had been waiting +early and late before the sublime gate, and was consuming her last ready +cash in the city where living was so dear; but it was all one to her, +and at a pinch she would sell even her gold ornaments, for sooner or +later her cause must come before the king, and then the wicked villain +and his accomplices would be taught what was just. + +Klea heard but little of this harangue; a feeling had come over her like +that of a person who is having water poured again and again on the top +of his head. Presently her neighbor observed that the new-comer was not +listening at all to her complainings; she slapped her shoulder with her +hand, and said: + +“You seem to think of nothing but your own concerns; and I dare say they +are not of such a nature as that you should relate them to any one else; +so far as mine are concerned the more they are discussed, the better.” + +The tone in which these remarks were made was so dry, and at the same +time so sharp, that it hurt Klea, and she rose hastily to go closer to +the gate. Her neighbor threw a cross word after her; but she did not +heed it, and drawing her veil closer over her face, she went through +the gate of the palace into a vast courtyard, brightly lighted up by +cressets and torches, and crowded with foot-soldiers and mounted guards. + +The sentry at the gate perhaps had not observed her, or perhaps had +let her pass unchallenged from her dignified and erect gait, and the +numerous armed men through whom she now made her way seemed to be so +much occupied with their own affairs, that no one bestowed any notice on +her. In a narrow alley, which led to a second court and was lighted +by lanterns, one of the body-guard known as Philobasilistes, a haughty +young fellow in yellow riding-boots and a shirt of mail over his red +tunic, came riding towards her on his tall horse, and noticing her he +tried to squeeze her between his charger and the wall, and put out his +hand to raise her veil; but Klea slipped aside, and put up her hands to +protect herself from the horse’s head which was almost touching her. + +The cavalier, enjoying her alarm, called out: “Only stand still--he is +not vicious.” + +“Which, you or your horse?” asked Klea, with such a solemn tone in +her deep voice that for an instant the young guardsman lost his +self-possession, and this gave her time to go farther from the horse. +But the girl’s sharp retort had annoyed the conceited young fellow, +and not having time to follow her himself, he called out in a tone of +encouragement to a party of mercenaries from Cyprus, whom the frightened +girl was trying to pass: + +“Look under this girl’s veil, comrades, and if she is as pretty as she +is well-grown, I wish you joy of your prize.” He laughed as he pressed +his knees against the flanks of his bay and trotted slowly away, while +the Cypriotes gave Klea ample time to reach the second court, which +was more brightly lighted even than the first, that they might there +surround her with insolent importunity. + +The helpless and persecuted girl felt the blood run cold in her veins, +and for a few minutes she could see nothing but a bewildering confusion +of flashing eyes and weapons, of beards and hands, could hear nothing +but words and sounds, of which she understood and felt only that they +were revolting and horrible, and threatened her with death and ruin. +She had crossed her arms over her bosom, but now she raised her hands +to hide her face, for she felt a strong hand snatch away the veil that +covered her head. This insolent proceeding turned her numb horror to +indignant rage, and, fixing her sparkling eyes on her bearded opponents, +she exclaimed: + +“Shame upon you, who in the king’s own house fall like wolves on a +defenceless woman, and in a peaceful spot snatch the veil from a young +girl’s head. Your mothers would blush for you, and your sisters cry +shame on you--as I do now!” + +Astonished at Klea’s distinguished beauty, startled at the angry glare +in her eyes, and the deep chest-tones of her voice which trembled with +excitement, the Cypriotes drew back, while the same audacious rascal +that had pulled away her veil came closer to her, and cried: + +“Who would make such a noise about a rubbishy veil! If you will be my +sweetheart I will buy you a new one, and many things besides.” + +At the same time he tried to throw his arm round her; but at his touch +Klea felt the blood leave her cheeks and mount to her bloodshot eyes, +and at that instant her hand, guided by some uncontrollable inward +impulse, grasped the handle of the knife which Krates had lent her; she +raised it high in the air though with an unsteady arm, exclaiming: + +“Let me go or, by Serapis whom I serve, I will strike you to the heart!” + +The soldier to whom this threat was addressed, was not the man to be +intimidated by a blade of cold iron in a woman’s hand; with a quick +movement he seized her wrist in order to disarm her; but although Klea +was forced to drop the knife she struggled with him to free herself from +his clutch, and this contest between a man and a woman, who seemed to be +of superior rank to that indicated by her very simple dress, seemed to +most of the Cypriotes so undignified, so much out of place within the +walls of a palace, that they pulled their comrade back from Klea, while +others on the contrary came to the assistance of the bully who defended +himself stoutly. And in the midst of the fray, which was conducted with +no small noise, stood Klea with flying breath. Her antagonist, though +flung to the ground, still held her wrist with his left hand while he +defended himself against his comrades with the right, and she tried with +all her force and cunning to withdraw it; for at the very height of her +excitement and danger she felt as if a sudden gust of wind had swept her +spirit clear of all confusion, and she was again able to contemplate her +position calmly and resolutely. + +If only her hand were free she might perhaps be able to take advantage +of the struggle between her foes, and to force her way out between their +ranks. + +Twice, thrice, four times, she tried to wrench her hand with a sudden +jerk through the fingers that grasped it; but each time in vain. +Suddenly, from the man at her feet there broke a loud, long-drawn cry of +pain which re-echoed from the high walls of the court, and at the same +time she felt the fingers of her antagonist gradually and slowly slip +from her arm like the straps of a sandal carefully lifted by the surgeon +from a broken ankle. + +“It is all over with him!” exclaimed the eldest of the Cypriotes. “A man +never calls out like that but once in his life! True enough--the dagger +is sticking here just under the ninth rib! This is mad work! That is +your doing again, Lykos, you savage wolf!” + +“He bit deep into my finger in the struggle--” + +“And you are for ever tearing each other to pieces for the sake of the +women,” interrupted the elder, not listening to the other’s excuses. +“Well, I was no better than you in my time, and nothing can alter it! +You had better be off now, for if the Epistrategist learns we have +fallen to stabbing each other again--” + +The Cypriote had not ceased speaking, and his countrymen were in the +very act of raising the body of their comrade when a division of the +civic watch rushed into the court in close order and through the passage +near which the fight for the girl had arisen, thus stopping the way +against those who were about to escape, since all who wished to get out +of the court into the open street must pass through the doorway into +which Klea had been forced by the horseman. Every other exit from this +second court of the citadel led into the strictly guarded gardens and +buildings of the palace itself. + +The noisy strife round Klea, and the cry of the wounded man had +attracted the watch; the Cypriotes and the maiden soon found themselves +surrounded, and they were conducted through a narrow side passage into +the court-yard of the prison. After a short enquiry the men who had been +taken were allowed to return under an escort to their own phalanx, and +Klea gladly followed the commander of the watch to a less brilliantly +illuminated part of the prison-yard, for in him she had recognized at +once Serapion’s brother Glaucus, and he in her the daughter of the man +who had done and suffered so much for his father’s sake; besides they +had often exchanged greetings and a few words in the temple of Serapis. + +“All that is in my power,” said Glaucus--a man somewhat taller but not +so broadly built as his brother--when he had read the recluse’s note and +when Klea had answered a number of questions, “all that is in my power +I will gladly do for you and your sister, for I do not forget all that +I owe to your father; still I cannot but regret that you have incurred +such risk, for it is always hazardous for a pretty young girl to venture +into this palace at a late hour, and particularly just now, for the +courts are swarming not only with Philometor’s fighting men but with +those of his brother, who have come here for their sovereign’s birthday +festival. The people have been liberally entertained, and the soldier +who has been sacrificing to Dionysus seizes the gifts of Eros and +Aphrodite wherever he may find them. I will at once take charge of my +brother’s letter to the Roman Publius Cornelius Scipio, but when you +have received his answer you will do well to let yourself be escorted +to my wife or my sister, who both live in the city, and to remain till +to-morrow morning with one or the other. Here you cannot remain a minute +unmolested while I am away--Where now--Aye! The only safe shelter I +can offer you is the prison down there; the room where they lock up +the subaltern officers when they have committed any offence is quite +unoccupied, and I will conduct you thither. It is always kept clean, and +there is a bench in it too.” + +Klea followed her friend who, as his hasty demeanor plainly showed, had +been interrupted in important business. In a few steps they reached the +prison; she begged Glaucus to bring her the Roman’s answer as quickly as +possible, declared herself quite ready to remain in the dark--since she +perceived that the light of a lamp might betray her, and she was not +afraid of the dark--and suffered herself to be locked in. + +As she heard the iron bolt creak in its brass socket a shiver ran +through her, and although the room in which she found herself was +neither worse nor smaller than that in which she and her sister lived +in the temple, still it oppressed her, and she even felt as if an +indescribable something hindered her breathing as she said to herself +that she was locked in and no longer free to come and to go. A dim light +penetrated into her prison through the single barred window that opened +on to the court, and she could see a little bench of palm-branches on +which she sat down to seek the repose she so sorely needed. All sense +of discomfort gradually vanished before the new feeling of rest and +refreshment, and pleasant hopes and anticipations were just beginning +to mingle themselves with the remembrance of the horrors she had just +experienced when suddenly there was a stir and a bustle just in front +of the prison--and she could hear, outside, the clatter of harness +and words of command. She rose from her seat and saw that about twenty +horsemen, whose golden helmets and armor reflected the light of the +lanterns, cleared the wide court by driving the men before them, as the +flames drive the game from a fired hedge, and by forcing them into a +second court from which again they proceeded to expel them. At least +Klea could hear them shouting ‘In the king’s name’ there as they had +before done close to her. Presently the horsemen returned and placed +themselves, ten and ten, as guards at each of the passages leading into +the court. It was not without interest that Klea looked on at this scene +which was perfectly new to her; and when one of the fine horses, dazzled +by the light of the lanterns, turned restive and shied, leaping and +rearing and threatening his rider with a fall--when the horseman checked +and soothed it, and brought it to a stand-still--the Macedonian warrior +was transfigured in her eyes to Publius, who no doubt could manage a +horse no less well than this man. + +No sooner was the court completely cleared of men by the mounted guard +than a new incident claimed Klea’s attention. First she heard footsteps +in the room adjoining her prison, then bright streaks of light fell +through the cracks of the slight partition which divided her place of +retreat from the other room, then the two window-openings close to hers +were closed with heavy shutters, then seats or benches were dragged +about and various objects were laid upon a table, and finally the door +of the adjoining room was thrown open and slammed to again so violently, +that the door which closed hers and the bench near which she was +standing trembled and jarred. + +At the same moment a deep sonorous voice called out with a loud and +hearty shout of laughter: + +“A mirror--give me a mirror, Eulaeus. By heaven! I do not look much like +prison fare--more like a man in whose strong brain there is no lack of +deep schemes, who can throttle his antagonist with a grip of his fist, +and who is prompt to avail himself of all the spoil that comes in his +way, so that he may compress the pleasures of a whole day into every +hour, and enjoy them to the utmost! As surely as my name is Euergetes +my uncle Antiochus was right in liking to mix among the populace. The +splendid puppets who surround us kings, and cover every portion of their +own bodies in wrappings and swaddling bands, also stifle the expression +of every genuine sentiment; and it is enough to turn our brain to +reflect that, if we would not be deceived, every word that we hear--and, +oh dear! how many words we must needs hear-must be pondered in our +minds. Now, the mob on the contrary--who think themselves beautifully +dressed in a threadbare cloth hanging round their brown loins--are far +better off. If one of them says to another of his own class--a naked +wretch who wears about him everything he happens to possess--that he is +a dog, he answers with a blow of his fist in the other’s face, and what +can be plainer than that! If on the other hand he tells him he is a +splendid fellow, he believes it without reservation, and has a perfect +right to believe it. + +“Did you see how that stunted little fellow with a snub-nose and +bandy-legs, who is as broad as he is long, showed all his teeth in a +delighted grin when I praised his steady hand? He laughs just like a +hyena, and every respectable father of a family looks on the fellow as +a god-forsaken monster; but the immortals must think him worth something +to have given him such magnificent grinders in his ugly mouth, and to +have preserved him mercifully for fifty years--for that is about the +rascal’s age. If that fellow’s dagger breaks he can kill his victim with +those teeth, as a fox does a duck, or smash his bones with his fist.” + +“But, my lord,” replied Eulaeus dryly and with a certain matter-of-fact +gravity to King Euergetes--for he it was who had come with him into the +room adjoining Klea’s retreat, “the dry little Egyptian with the thin +straight hair is even more trustworthy and tougher and nimbler than his +companion, and, so far, more estimable. One flings himself on his prey +with a rush like a block of stone hurled from a roof, but the other, +without being seen, strikes his poisoned fang into his flesh like an +adder hidden in the sand. The third, on whom I had set great hopes, was +beheaded the day before yesterday without my knowledge; but the pair +whom you have condescended to inspect with your own eyes are sufficient. +They must use neither dagger nor lance, but they will easily achieve +their end with slings and hooks and poisoned needles, which leave wounds +that resemble the sting of an adder. We may safely depend on these +fellows.” + +Once more Euergetes laughed loudly, and exclaimed: What criticism! +Exactly as if these blood-hounds were tragic actors of which one could +best produce his effects by fire and pathos, and the other by the +subtlety of his conception. I call that an unprejudiced judgment. And +why should not a man be great even as a murderer? From what hangman’s +noose did you drag out the neck of one, and from what headsman’s block +did you rescue the other when you found them? + +“It is a lucky hour in which we first see something new to us, and, +by Heracles! I never before in the whole course of my life saw such +villains as these. I do not regret having gone to see them and talked to +them as if I were their equal. Now, take this torn coat off me, and help +me to undress. Before I go to the feast I will take a hasty plunge in my +bath, for I twitch in every limb, I feel as if I had got dirty in their +company. + +“There lie my clothes and my sandals; strap them on for me, and tell me +as you do it how you lured the Roman into the toils.” + +Klea could hear every word of this frightful conversation, and clasped +her hand over her brow with a shudder, for she found it difficult to +believe in the reality of the hideous images that it brought before her +mind. Was she awake or was she a prey to some horrid dream? + +She hardly knew, and, indeed, she scarcely understood half of all she +heard till the Roman’s name was mentioned. She felt as if the point of a +thin, keen knife was being driven obliquely through her brain from right +to left, as it now flashed through her mind that it was against him, +against Publius, that the wild beasts, disguised in human form, were +directed by Eulaeus, and face to face with this--the most hideous, the +most incredible of horrors--she suddenly recovered the full use of her +senses. She softly slipped close to that rift in the partition through +which the broadest beam of light fell into the room, put her ear close +to it, and drank in, with fearful attention, word for word the +report made by the eunuch to his iniquitous superior, who frequently +interrupted him with remarks, words of approval or a short laugh-drank +them in, as a man perishing in the desert drinks the loathsome waters of +a salt pool. + +And what she heard was indeed well fitted to deprive her of her senses, +but the more definite the facts to which the words referred that she +could overhear, the more keenly she listened, and the more resolutely +she collected her thoughts. Eulaeus had used her own name to induce +the Roman to keep an assignation at midnight in the desert close to the +Apis-tombs. He repeated the words that he had written to this effect +on a tile, and which requested Publius to come quite alone to the spot +indicated, since she dare not speak with him in the temple. Finally he +was invited to write his answer on the other side of the square of clay. +As Klea heard these words, put into her own mouth by a villain, she +could have sobbed aloud heartily with anguish, shame, and rage; but the +point now was to keep her ears wide open, for Euergetes asked his odious +tool: + +“And what was the Roman’s answer?” Eulaeus must have handed the tile to +the king, for he laughed loudly again, and cried out: + +“So he will walk into the trap--will arrive by half an hour after +midnight at the latest, and greets Klea from her sister Irene. He +carries on love-making and abduction wholesale, and buys water-bearers +by the pair, like doves in the market or sandals in a shoe maker’s +stall. Only see how the simpleton writes Greek; in these few words there +are two mistakes, two regular schoolboys’ blunders. + +“The fellow must have had a very pleasant day of it, since he must have +been reckoning on a not unsuccessful evening--but the gods have an ugly +habit of clenching the hand with which they have long caressed their +favorites, and striking him with their fist. + +“Amalthea’s horn has been poured out on him today; first he snapped up, +under my very nose, my little Hebe, the Irene of Irenes, whom I hope +to-morrow to inherit from him; then he got the gift of my best Cyrenaan +horses, and at the same time the flattering assurance of my valuable +friendship; then he had audience of my fair sister--and it goes more to +the heart of a republican than you would believe when crowned heads +are graciously disposed towards him--finally the sister of his pretty +sweetheart invites him to an assignation, and she, if you and Zoe speak +the truth, is a beauty in the grand style. Now these are really too many +good things for one inhabitant of this most stingily provided world; and +in one single day too, which, once begun, is so soon ended; and justice +requires that we should lend a helping hand to destiny, and cut off +the head of this poppy that aspires to rise above its brethren; the +thousands who have less good fortune than he would otherwise have great +cause to complain of neglect.” + +“I am happy to see you in such good humor,” said Eulaeus. + +“My humor is as may be,” interrupted the king. “I believe I am only +whistling a merry tune to keep up my spirits in the dark. If I were on +more familiar terms with what other men call fear I should have ample +reason to be afraid; for in the quail-fight we have gone in for I have +wagered a crown-aye, and more than that even. To-morrow only will decide +whether the game is lost or won, but I know already to-day that I would +rather see my enterprise against Philometor fail, with all my hopes of +the double crown, than our plot against the life of the Roman; for I +was a man before I was a king, and a man I should remain, if my throne, +which now indeed stands on only two legs, were to crash under my weight. + +“My sovereign dignity is but a robe, though the costliest, to be sure, +of all garments. If forgiveness were any part of my nature I might +easily forgive the man who should soil or injure that--but he who comes +too near to Euergetes the man, who dares to touch this body, and the +spirit it contains, or to cross it in its desires and purposes--him I +will crush unhesitatingly to the earth, I will see him torn in pieces. +Sentence is passed on the Roman, and if your ruffians do their duty, and +if the gods accept the holocaust that I had slain before them at sunset +for the success of my project, in a couple of hours Publius Cornelius +Scipio will have bled to death. + +“He is in a position to laugh at me--as a man--but I therefore--as a +man--have the right, and--as a king--have the power, to make sure that +that laugh shall be his last. If I could murder Rome as I can him how +glad should I be! for Rome alone hinders me from being the greatest of +all the great kings of our time; and yet I shall rejoice to-morrow when +they tell me Publius Cornelius Scipio has been torn by wild beasts, and +his body is so mutilated that his own mother could not recognize it more +than if a messenger were to bring me the news that Carthage had broken +the power of Rome.” + +Euergetes had spoken the last words in a voice that sounded like the +roll of thunder as it growls in a rapidly approaching storm, louder, +deeper, and more furious each instant. When at last he was silent +Eulaeus said: “The immortals, my lord, will not deny you this happiness. +The brave fellows whom you condescended to see and to talk to strike as +certainly as the bolt of our father Zeus, and as we have learned from +the Roman’s horse-keeper where he has hidden Irene, she will no more +elude your grasp than the crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt.--Now, allow +me to put on your mantle, and then to call the body-guard that they may +escort you as you return to your residence.” + +“One thing more,” cried the king, detaining Eulaeus. “There are always +troops by the Tombs of Apis placed there to guard the sacred places; may +not they prove a hindrance to your friends?” + +“I have withdrawn all the soldiers and armed guards to Memphis down to +the last man,” replied Eulaeus, “and quartered them within the White +Wall. Early tomorrow, before you proceed to business, they will +be replaced by a stronger division, so that they may not prove a +reinforcement to your brother’s troops here if things come to fighting.” + +“I shall know how to reward your foresight,” said Euergetes as Eulaeus +quitted the room. + +Again Klea heard a door open, and the sound of many hoofs on the +pavement of the court-yard, and when she went, all trembling, up to the +window, she saw Euergetes himself, and the powerfully knit horse that +was led in for him. The tyrant twisted his hand in the mane of the +restless and pawing steed, and Klea thought that the monstrous mass +could never mount on to the horse’s back without the aid of many men; +but she was mistaken, for with a mighty spring the giant flung himself +high in the air and on to the horse, and then, guiding his panting steed +by the pressure of his knees alone, he bounded out of the prison-yard +surrounded by his splendid train. + +For some minutes the court-yard remained empty, then a man hurriedly +crossed it, unlocked the door of the room where Klea was, and informed +her that he was a subaltern under Glaucus, and had brought her a message +from him. + +“My lord,” said the veteran soldier to the girl, “bid me greet you, and +says that he found neither the Roman Publius Scipio, nor his friend the +Corinthian at home. He is prevented from coming to you himself; he has +his hands full of business, for soldiers in the service of both the +kings are quartered within the White Wall, and all sorts of squabbles +break out between them. Still, you cannot remain in this room, for it +will shortly be occupied by a party of young officers who began the +fray. Glaucus proposes for your choice that you should either allow +me to conduct you to his wife or return to the temple to which you are +attached. In the latter case a chariot shall convey you as far as the +second tavern in Khakem on the borders of the desert-for the city is +full of drunken soldiery. There you may probably find an escort if you +explain to the host who you are. But the chariot must be back again in +less than an hour, for it is one of the king’s, and when the banquet is +over there may be a scarcity of chariots.” + +“Yes--I will go back to the place I came from,” said Klea eagerly, +interrupting the messenger. “Take me at once to the chariot.” + +“Follow me, then,” said the old man. + +“But I have no veil,” observed Klea, “and have only this thin robe on. +Rough soldiers snatched my wrapper from my face, and my cloak from off +my shoulders.” + +“I will bring you the captain’s cloak which is lying here in the +orderly’s room, and his travelling-hat too; that will hide your face +with its broad flap. You are so tall that you might be taken for a man, +and that is well, for a woman leaving the palace at this hour would +hardly pass unmolested. A slave shall fetch the things from your temple +to-morrow. I may inform you that my master ordered me take as much care +of you as if you were his own daughter. And he told me too--and I had +nearly forgotten it--to tell you that your sister was carried off by +the Roman, and not by that other dangerous man, you would know whom he +meant. Now wait, pray, till I return; I shall not be long gone.” + +In a few minutes the guard returned with a large cloak in which he +wrapped Klea, and a broad-brimmed travelling-hat which she pressed down +on her head, and he then conducted her to that quarter of the palace +where the king’s stables were. She kept close to the officer, and was +soon mounted on a chariot, and then conducted by the driver--who took +her for a young Macedonian noble, who was tempted out at night by +some assignation--as far as the second tavern on the road back to the +Serapeum. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +While Klea had been listening to the conversation between Euergetes and +Eulaeus, Cleopatra had been sitting in her tent, and allowing herself to +be dressed with no less care than on the preceding evening, but in other +garments. + +It would seem that all had not gone so smoothly as she wished during the +day, for her two tire-women had red eyes. Her lady-in-waiting, Zoe, was +reading to her, not this time from a Greek philosopher but from a Greek +translation of the Hebrew Psalms: a discussion as to their poetic merit +having arisen a few days previously at the supper-table. Onias, the +Israelite general, had asserted that these odes might be compared with +those of Alcman or of Pindar, and had quoted certain passages that had +pleased the queen. To-day she was not disposed for thought, but wanted +something strange and out of the common to distract her mind, so she +desired Zoe to open the book of the Hebrews, of which the translation +was considered by the Hellenic Jews in Alexandria as an admirable +work--nay, even as inspired by God himself; it had long been known to +her through her Israelite friends and guests. + +Cleopatra had been listening for about a quarter of an hour to Zoe’s +reading when the blast of a trumpet rang out on the steps which led +up her tent, announcing a visitor of the male sex. The queen glanced +angrily round, signed to her lady to stop reading, and exclaimed: + +“I will not see my husband now! Go, Thais, and tell the eunuchs on the +steps, that I beg Philometor not to disturb me just now. Go on, Zoe.” + +Ten more psalms had been read, and a few verses repeated twice or thrice +by Cleopatra’s desire, when the pretty Athenian returned with flaming +cheeks, and said in an excited tone: + +“It is not your husband, the king, but your brother Euergetes, who asks +to speak with you.” + +“He might have chosen some other hour,” replied Cleopatra, looking round +at her maid. Thais cast down her eyes, and twitched the edge of her robe +between her fingers as she addressed her mistress; but the queen, whom +nothing could escape that she chose to see, and who was not to-day +in the humor for laughing or for letting any indiscretion escape +unreproved, went on at once in an incensed and cutting tone, raising her +voice to a sharp pitch: + +“I do not choose that my messengers should allow themselves to be +detained, be it by whom it may--do you hear! Leave Me this instant +and go to your room, and stay there till I want you to undress me this +evening. Andromeda--do you hear, old woman?--you can bring my brother to +me, and he will let you return quicker than Thais, I fancy. You need +not leer at yourself in the glass, you cannot do anything to alter your +wrinkles. My head-dress is already done. Give me that linen wrapper, +Olympias, and then he may come! Why, there he is already! First you ask +permission, brother, and then disdain to wait till it is given you.” + +“Longing and waiting,” replied Euergetes, “are but an ill-assorted +couple. I wasted this evening with common soldiers and fawning +flatterers; then, in order to see a few noble countenances, I went into +the prison, after that I hastily took a bath, for the residence of your +convicts spoils one’s complexion more, and in a less pleasant manner, +than this little shrine, where everything looks and smells like +Aphrodite’s tiring-room; and now I have a longing to hear a few good +words before supper-time comes.” + +“From my lips?” asked Cleopatra. + +“There are none that can speak better, whether by the Nile or the +Ilissus.” + +“What do you want of me?” + +“I--of you?” + +“Certainly, for you do not speak so prettily unless you want something.” + +“But I have already told you! I want to hear you say something wise, +something witty, something soul-stirring.” + +“We cannot call up wit as we would a maid-servant. It comes unbidden, +and the more urgently we press it to appear the more certainly it +remains away.” + +“That may be true of others, but not of you who, even while you declare +that you have no store of Attic salt, are seasoning your speech with it. +All yield obedience to grace and beauty, even wit and the sharp-tongued +Momus who mocks even at the gods.” + +“You are mistaken, for not even my own waiting-maids return in proper +time when I commission them with a message to you.” + +“And may we not to be allowed to sacrifice to the Charites on the way to +the temple of Aphrodite?” + +“If I were indeed the goddess, those worshippers who regarded my +hand-maidens as my equals would find small acceptance with me.” + +“Your reproof is perfectly just, for you are justified in requiring that +all who know you should worship but one goddess, as the Jews do but one +god. But I entreat you do not again compare yourself to the brainless +Cyprian dame. You may be allowed to do so, so far as your grace is +concerned; but who ever saw an Aphrodite philosophizing and reading +serious books? I have disturbed you in grave studies no doubt; what is +the book you are rolling up, fair Zoe?” + +“The sacred book of the Jews, Sire,” replied Zoe; “one that I know you +do not love.” + +“And you--who read Homer, Pindar, Sophocles, and Plato--do you like it?” + asked Euergetes. + +“I find passages in it which show a profound knowledge of life, and +others of which no one can dispute the high poetic flight,” replied +Cleopatra. “Much of it has no doubt a thoroughly barbarian twang, and it +is particularly in the Psalms--which we have now been reading, and which +might be ranked with the finest hymns--that I miss the number and rhythm +of the syllables, the observance of a fixed metre--in short, severity of +form. David, the royal poet, was no less possessed by the divinity when +he sang to his lyre than other poets have been, but he does not seem to +have known that delight felt by our poets in overcoming the difficulties +they have raised for themselves. The poet should slavishly obey the laws +he lays down for himself of his own free-will, and subordinate to them +every word, and yet his matter and his song should seem to float on a +free and soaring wing. Now, even the original Hebrew text of the Psalms +has no metrical laws.” + +“I could well dispense with them,” replied Euergetes; “Plato too +disdained to measure syllables, and I know passages in his works which +are nevertheless full of the highest poetic beauty. Besides, it has been +pointed out to me that even the Hebrew poems, like the Egyptian, follow +certain rules, which however I might certainly call rhetorical +rather than poetical. The first member in a series of ideas stands in +antithesis to the next, which either re-states the former one in a new +form or sets it in a clearer light by suggesting some contrast. Thus +they avail themselves of the art of the orator--or indeed of the +painter--who brings a light color into juxtaposition with a dark one, in +order to increase its luminous effect. This method and style are indeed +not amiss, and that was the least of all the things that filled me with +aversion for this book, in which besides, there is many a proverb which +may be pleasing to kings who desire to have submissive subjects, and to +fathers who would bring up their sons in obedience to themselves and to +the laws. Even mothers must be greatly comforted by them,--who ask no +more than that their children may get through the world without being +jostled or pushed, and unmolested if possible, that they may live longer +than the oaks or ravens, and be blessed with the greatest possible +number of descendants. Aye! these ordinances are indeed precious to +those who accept them, for they save them the trouble of thinking for +themselves. Besides, the great god of the Jews is said to have dictated +all that this book contains to its writers, just as I dictate to +Philippus, my hump-backed secretary, all that I want said. They regard +everyone as a blasphemer and desecrator who thinks that anything written +in that roll is erroneous, or even merely human. Plato’s doctrines are +not amiss, and yet Aristotle had criticised them severely and attempted +to confute them. I myself incline to the views of the Stagyrite, you to +those of the noble Athenian, and how many good and instructive hours we +owe to our discussions over this difference of opinion! And how +amusing it is to listen when the Platonists on the one hand and the +Aristotelians on the other, among the busy threshers of straw in the +Museum at Alexandria, fall together by the ears so vehemently that they +would both enjoy flinging their metal cups at each others’ heads--if +the loss of the wine, which I pay for, were not too serious to bear. We +still seek for truth; the Jews believe they possess it entirely. + +“Even those among them who most zealously study our philosophers believe +this; and yet the writers of this book know of nothing but actual +present, and their god--who will no more endure another god as his +equal than a citizen’s wife will admit a second woman to her husband’s +house--is said to have created the world out of nothing for no other +purpose but to be worshipped and feared by its inhabitants. + +“Now, given a philosophical Jew who knows his Empedocles--and I grant +there are many such in Alexandria, extremely keen and cultivated +men--what idea can he form in his own mind of ‘creation out of nothing?’ +Must he not pause to think very seriously when he remembers the +fundamental axiom that ‘out of nothing, nothing can come,’ and that +nothing which has once existed can ever be completely annihilated? At +any rate the necessary deduction must be that the life of man ends in +that nothingness whence everything in existence has proceeded. To live +and to die according to this book is not highly profitable. I can easily +reconcile myself to the idea of annihilation, as a man who knows how to +value a dreamless sleep after a day brimful of enjoyment--as a man who +if he must cease to be Euergetes would rather spring into the open jaws +of nothingness--but as a philosopher, no, never!” + +“You, it is true,” replied the queen, “cannot help measuring all and +everything by the intellectual standard exclusively; for the gods, who +endowed you with gifts beyond a thousand others, struck with blindness +or deafness that organ which conveys to our minds any religious or moral +sentiment. If that could see or hear, you could no more exclude the +conviction that these writings are full of the deepest purport than I +can, nor doubt that they have a powerful hold on the mind of the reader. + +“They fetter their adherents to a fixed law, but they take all +bitterness out of sorrow by teaching that a stern father sends us +suffering which is represented as being sometimes a means of education, +and sometimes a punishment for transgressing a hard and clearly defined +law. Their god, in his infallible but stern wisdom, sets those who cling +to him on an evil and stony path to prove their strength, and to let +them at last reach the glorious goal which is revealed to them from the +beginning.” + +“How strange such words as these sound in the mouth of a Greek,” + interrupted Euergetes. “You certainly must be repeating them after the +son of the Jewish high-priest, who defends the cause of his cruel god +with so much warmth and skill.” + +“I should have thought,” retorted Cleopatra, “that this overwhelming +figure of a god would have pleased you, of all men; for I know of no +weakness in you. Quite lately Dositheos, the Jewish centurion--a very +learned man--tried to describe to my husband the one great god to whom +his nation adheres with such obstinate fidelity, but I could not help +thinking of our beautiful and happy gods as a gay company of amorous +lords and pleasure-loving ladies, and comparing them with this stern and +powerful being who, if only he chose to do it, might swallow them all +up, as Chronos swallowed his own children.” + +“That,” exclaimed Euergetes, “is exactly what most provokes me in +this superstition. It crushes our light-hearted pleasure in life, and +whenever I have been reading the book of the Hebrews everything has come +into my mind that I least like to think of. It is like an importunate +creditor that reminds us of our forgotten debts, and I love pleasure +and hate an importunate reminder. And you, pretty one, life blooms for +you--” + +“But I,” interrupted Cleopatra, “I can admire all that is great; and +does it not seem a bold and grand thing even to you, that the mighty +idea that it is one single power that moves and fills the world, should +be freely and openly declared in the sacred writings of the Jews--an +idea which the Egyptians carefully wrap up and conceal, which the +priests of the Nile only venture to divulge to the most privileged of +those who are initiated into their mysteries, and which--though the +Greek philosophers indeed have fearlessly uttered it--has never been +introduced by any Hellene into the religion of the people? If you were +not so averse to the Hebrew nation, and if you, like my husband and +myself, had diligently occupied yourself with their concerns and their +belief you would be juster to them and to their scriptures, and to the +great creating and preserving spirit, their god--” + +“You are confounding this jealous and most unamiable and ill-tempered +tyrant of the universe with the Absolute of Aristotle!” cried Euergetes; +“he stigmatises most of what you and I and all rational Greeks require +for the enjoyment of life as sin--sin upon sin. And yet if my easily +persuadable brother governed at Alexandria, I believe the shrewd +priests might succeed in stamping him as a worshipper of that magnified +schoolmaster, who punishes his untutored brood with fire and torment.” + +“I cannot deny,” replied Cleopatra, “that even to me the doctrine of the +Jews has something very fearful in it, and that to adopt it seems to +me tantamount to confiscating all the pleasures of life.--But enough of +such things, which I should no more relish as a daily food than you +do. Let us rejoice in that we are Hellenes, and let us now go to the +banquet. I fear you have found a very unsatisfactory substitute for what +you sought in coming up here.” + +“No--no. I feel strangely excited to-day, and my work with Aristarchus +would have led to no issue. It is a pity that we should have begun to +talk of that barbarian rubbish; there are so many other subjects more +pleasing and more cheering to the mind. Do you remember how we used to +read the great tragedians and Plato together?” + +“And how you would often interrupt our tutor Agatharchides in his +lectures on geography, to point out some mistake! Did you prosecute +those studies in Cyrene?” + +“Of course. It really is a pity, Cleopatra, that we should no longer +live together as we did formerly. There is no one, not even Aristarchus, +with whom I find it more pleasant and profitable to converse and discuss +than with you. If only you had lived at Athens in the time of Pericles, +who knows if you might not have been his friend instead of the immortal +Aspasia. This Memphis is certainly not the right place for you; for a +few months in the year you ought to come to Alexandria, which has now +risen to be superior to Athens.” + +“I do not know you to-day!” exclaimed Cleopatra, gazing at her brother +in astonishment. “I have never heard you speak so kindly and brotherly +since the death of my mother. You must have some great request to make +of us.” + +“You see how thankless a thing it is for me to let my heart speak for +once, like other people. I am like the boy in the fable when the wolf +came! I have so often behaved in an unbrotherly fashion that when I show +the aspect of a brother you think I have put on a mask. If I had had +anything special to ask of you I should have waited till to-morrow, for +in this part of the country even a blind beggar does not like to refuse +his lame comrade anything on his birthday.” + +“If only we knew what you wish for! Philometor and I would do it +more than gladly, although you always want something monstrous. Our +performance to-morrow will--at any rate--but--Zoe, pray be good enough +to retire with the maids; I have a few words to say to my brother +alone.” + +As soon as the queen’s ladies had withdrawn, she went on: + +“It is a real grief to use, but the best part of the festival in honor +of your birthday will not be particularly successful, for the priests of +Serapis spitefully refuse us the Hebe about whom Lysias has made us so +curious. Asclepiodorus, it would seem, keeps her in concealment, and +carries his audacity so far as to tell us that someone has carried her +off from the temple. He insinuates that we have stolen her, and demands +her restitution in the name of all his associates.” + +“You are doing the man an injustice; our dove has followed the lure of +a dove-catcher who will not allow me to have her, and who is now billing +and cooing with her in his own nest. I am cheated, but I can scarcely be +angry with the Roman, for his claim was of older standing than mine.” + +“The Roman?” asked Cleopatra, rising from her seat and turning pale. +“But that is impossible. You are making common cause with Eulaeus, and +want to set me against Publius Scipio. At the banquet last night you +showed plainly enough your ill-feeling against him.” + +“You seem to feel more warmly towards him. But before I prove to you +that I am neither lying nor joking, may I enquire what has this man, +this many-named Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, to recommend him above +any handsome well-grown Macedonian, who is resolute in my cause, in the +whole corps of your body guard, excepting his patrician pride? He is as +bitter and ungenial as a sour apple, and all the very best that you--a +subtle thinker, a brilliant and cultivated philosopher--can find to say +is no more appreciated by his meanly cultivated intellect than the odes +of Sappho by a Nubian boatman.” + +“It is exactly for that,” cried the queen, “that I value him; he is +different from all of us; we who--how shall I express myself--who always +think at second-hand, and always set our foot in the rut trodden by the +master of the school we adhere to; who squeeze our minds into the moulds +that others have carved out, and when we speak hesitate to step beyond +the outlines of those figures of rhetoric which we learned at school! +You have burst these bonds, but even your mighty spirit still shows +traces of them. Publius Scipio, on the contrary, thinks and sees and +speaks with perfect independence, and his upright sense guides him to +the truth without any trouble or special training. His society revives +me like the fresh air that I breathe when I come out into the open air +from the temple filled with the smoke of incense--like the milk and +bread which a peasant offered us during our late excursion to the coast, +after we had been living for a year on nothing but dainties.” + +“He has all the admirable characteristics of a child!” interrupted +Euergetes. “And if that is all that appears estimable to you in the +Roman your son may soon replace the great Cornelius.” + +“Not soon! no, not till he shall have grown older than you are, and a +man, a thorough man, from the crown of his head to the sole of his +foot, for such a man is Publius! I believe--nay, I am sure--that he is +incapable of any mean action, that he could not be false in word or even +in look, nor feign a sentiment be did not feel.” + +“Why so vehement, sister? So much zeal is quite unnecessary on this +occasion! You know well enough that I have my easy days, and that this +excitement is not good for you; nor has the Roman deserved that you +should be quite beside yourself for his sake. The fellow dared in my +presence to look at you as Paris might at Helen before he carried her +off, and to drink out of your cup; and this morning he no doubt did +not contradict what he conveyed to you last night with his eyes--nay, +perhaps by his words. And yet, scarcely an hour before, he had been to +the Necropolis to bear his sweetheart away from the temple of the gloomy +Serapis into that of the smiling Eros.” + +“You shall prove this!” cried the queen in great excitement. “Publius is +my friend--” + +“And I am yours!” + +“You have often proved the reverse, and now again with lies and +cheating--” + +“You seem,” interrupted Euergetes, “to have learned from your +unphilosophical favorite to express your indignation with extraordinary +frankness; to-day however I am, as I have said, as gentle as a kitten--” + +“Euergetes and gentleness!” cried Cleopatra with a forced laugh. “No, +you only step softly like a cat when she is watching a bird, and your +gentleness covers some ruthless scheme, which we shall find out soon +enough to our cost. You have been talking with Eulaeus to-day; Eulaeus, +who fears and hates Publius, and it seems to me that you have hatched +some conspiracy against him; but if you dare to cast a single stone in +his path, to touch a single hair of his head, I will show you that even +a weak woman can be terrible. Nemesis and the Erinnyes from Alecto to +Megaera, the most terrible of all the gods, are women!” + +Cleopatra had hissed rather than spoken these words, with her teeth set +with rage, and had raised her small fist to threaten her brother; but +Euergetes preserved a perfect composure till she had ceased speaking. +Then he took a step closer to her, crossed his arms over his breast, and +asked her in the deepest bass of his fine deep voice: + +“Are you idiotically in love with this Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica, +or do you purpose to make use of him and his kith and kin in Rome +against me?” + +Transported with rage, and without blenching in the least at her +brother’s piercing gaze, she hastily retorted: “Up to this moment only +the first perhaps--for what is my husband to me? But if you go on as you +have begun I shall begin to consider how I may make use of his influence +and of his liking for me, on the shores of the Tiber.” + +“Liking!” cried Euergetes, and he laughed so loud and violently that +Zoe, who was listening at the tent door, gave a little scream, and +Cleopatra drew back a step. “And to think that you--the most prudent +of the prudent--who can hear the dew fall and the grass grow, and smell +here in Memphis the smoke of every fire that is lighted in Alexandria +or in Syria or even in Rome--that you, my mother’s daughter, should be +caught over head and ears by a broad-shouldered lout, for all the world +like a clumsy town-girl or a wench at a loom. This ignorant Adonis, +who knows so well how to make use of his own strange and resolute +personality, and of the power that stands in his background, thinks no +more of the hearts he sets in flames than I of the earthen jar out of +which water is drawn when I am thirsty. You think to make use of him by +the ‘Tiber; but he has anticipated you, and learns from you all that +is going on by the Nile and everything they most want to know in the +Senate. + +“You do not believe me, for no one ever is ready to believe anything +that can diminish his self-esteem--and why should you believe me? I +frankly confess that I do not hesitate to lie when I hope to gain more +by untruth than by that much-belauded and divine truth, which, according +to your favorite Plato, is allied to all earthly beauty; but it is +often just as useless as beauty itself, for the useful and the beautiful +exclude each other in a thousand cases, for ten when they coincide. +There, the gong is sounding for the third time. If you care for plain +proof that the Roman, only an hour before he visited you this morning, +had our little Hebe carried off from the temple, and conveyed to the +house of Apollodorus, the sculptor, at Memphis, you have only to come +to see me in my rooms early to-morrow after the first morning sacrifice. +You will at any rate wish to come and congratulate me; bring your +children with you, as I propose making them presents. You might even +question the Roman himself at the banquet to-day, but he will hardly +appear, for the sweetest gifts of Eros are bestowed at night, and as +the temple of Serapis is closed at sunset Publius has never yet seen his +Irene in the evening. May I expect you and the children after morning +sacrifice?” + +Before Cleopatra had time to answer this question another trumpet-blast +was heard, and she exclaimed: “That is Philometor, come to fetch us to +the banquet. I will ere long give the Roman the opportunity of defending +himself, though--in spite of your accusations--I trust him entirely. +This morning I asked him solemnly whether it was true that he was in +love with his friend’s charming Hebe, and he denied it in his firm and +manly way, and his replies were admirable and worthy of the noblest +mind, when I ventured to doubt his sincerity. He takes truth more +seriously than you do. He regards it not only as beautiful and right to +be truthful, he says, but as prudent too; for lies can only procure us +a small short-lived advantage, as transitory as the mists of night which +vanish as soon as the sun appears, while truth is like the sunlight +itself, which as often as it is dimmed by clouds reappears again and +again. And, he says, what makes a liar so particularly contemptible in +his eyes is, that to attain his end, he must be constantly declaring and +repeating the horror he has of those who are and do the very same thing +as he himself. The ruler of a state cannot always be truthful, and I +often have failed in truth; but my intercourse with Publius has aroused +much that is good in me, and which had been slumbering with closed eyes; +and if this man should prove to be the same as all the rest of you, then +I will follow your road, Euergetes, and laugh at virtue and truth, and +set the busts of Aristippus and Strato on the pedestals where those of +Zeno and Antisthenes now stand.” + +“You mean to have the busts of the philosophers moved again?” asked +King Philometor, who, as he entered the tent, had heard the queen’s +last words. “And Aristippus is to have the place of honor? I have no +objection--though he teaches that man must subjugate matter and not +become subject to it.--[‘Mihi res, non me rebus subjungere.’]--This +indeed is easier to say than to do, and there is no man to whom it is +more impossible than to a king who has to keep on good terms with Greeks +and Egyptians, as we have, and with Rome as well. And besides all this +to avoid quarrelling with a jealous brother, who shares our kingdom! +If men could only know how much they would have to do as kings only in +reading and writing, they would take care never to struggle for a +crown! Up to this last half hour I have been examining and deciding +applications and petitions. Have you got through yours, Euergetes? Even +more had accumulated for you than for us.” + +“All were settled in an hour,” replied the other promptly. “My eye is +quicker than the mouth of your reader, and my decisions commonly consist +of three words while you dictate long treatises to your scribes. So I +had done when you had scarcely begun, and yet I could tell you at once, +if it were not too tedious a matter, every single case that has come +before me for months, and explain it in all its details.” + +“That I could not indeed,” said Philometor modestly, “but I know and +admire your swift intelligence and accurate memory.” + +“You see I am more fit for a king than you are;” laughed Euergetes. “You +are too gentle and debonair for a throne! Hand over your government to +me. I will fill your treasury every year with gold. I beg you now, come +to Alexandria with Cleopatra for good, and share with me the palace and +the gardens in the Bruchion. I will nominate your little Philopator heir +to the throne, for I have no wish to contract a permanent tie with +any woman, as Cleopatra belongs to you. This is a bold proposal, but +reflect, Philometor, if you were to accept it, how much time it would +give you for your music, your disputations with the Jews, and all your +other favorite occupations.” + +“You never know how far you may go with your jest!” interrupted +Cleopatra. “Besides, you devote quite as much time to your studies +in philology and natural history as he does to music and improving +conversations with his learned friends.” + +“Just so,” assented Philometor, “and you may be counted among the sages +of the Museum with far more reason than I.” + +“But the difference between us,” replied Euergetes, “is that I despise +all the philosophical prattlers and rubbish-collectors in Alexandria +almost to the point of hating them, while for science I have as great a +passion as for a lover. You, on the contrary, make much of the learned +men, but trouble yourself precious little about science.” + +“Drop the subject, pray,” begged Cleopatra. “I believe that you two have +never yet been together for half an hour without Euergetes having begun +some dispute, and Philometor having at last given in, to pacify him. +Our guests must have been waiting for us a long time. Had Publius Scipio +made his appearance?” + +“He had sent to excuse himself,” replied the king as he scratched the +poll of Cleopatra’s parrot, parting its feathers with the tips of his +fingers. “Lysias, the Corinthian, is sitting below, and he says he does +not know where his friend can be gone.” + +“But we know very well,” said Euergetes, casting an ironical glance +at the queen. “It is pleasant to be with Philometor and Cleopatra, but +better still with Eros and Hebe. Sister, you look pale--shall I call for +Zoe?” + +Cleopatra shook her head in negation, but she dropped into a seat, +and sat stooping, with her head bowed over her knees as if she were +dreadfully tired. Euergetes turned his back on her, and spoke to his +brother of indifferent subjects, while she drew lines, some straight and +some crooked, with her fan-stick through the pile of the soft rug on the +floor, and sat gazing thoughtfully at her feet. As she sat thus her +eye was caught by her sandals, richly set with precious stones, and the +slender toes she had so often contemplated with pleasure; but now the +sight of them seemed to vex her, for in obedience to a swift impulse +she loosened the straps, pushed off her right sandal with her left foot, +kicked it from her, and said, turning to her husband: + +“It is late and I do not feel well, and you may sup without me.” + +“By the healing Isis!” exclaimed Philometor, going up to her. “You look +suffering. Shall I send for the physicians? Is it really nothing more +than your usual headache? The gods be thanked! But that you should be +unwell just to-day! I had so much to say to you; and the chief thing +of all was that we are still a long way from completeness in our +preparations for our performance. If this luckless Hebe were not--” + +“She is in good hands,” interrupted Euergetes. “The Roman, Publius +Scipio, has taken her to a place of safety; perhaps in order to present +her to me to morrow morning in return for the horses from Cyrene which +I sent him to-day. How brightly your eyes sparkle, sister--with joy no +doubt at this good idea. This evening, I dare say he is rehearsing the +little one in her part that she may perform it well to-morrow. If we are +mistaken--if Publius is ungrateful and proposes keeping the dove, then +Thais, your pretty Athenian waiting-woman, may play the part of Hebe. +What do you think of that suggestion, Cleopatra?” + +“That I forbid such jesting with me!” cried the queen vehemently. +“No one has any consideration for me--no one pities me, and I suffer +fearfully! Euergetes scorns me--you, Philometor, would be glad to drag +me down! If only the banquet is not interfered with, and so long as +nothing spoils your pleasure!--Whether I die or no, no one cares!” + +With these words the queen burst into tears, and roughly pushed away her +husband as he endeavored to soothe her. At last she dried her eyes, and +said: “Go down-the guests are waiting.” + +“Immediately, my love,” replied Philometor. “But one thing I must tell +you, for I know that it will arouse your sympathy. The Roman read to you +the petition for pardon for Philotas, the chief of the Chrematistes +and ‘relative of the king,’ which contains such serious charges against +Eulaeus. I was ready with all my heart to grant your wish and to pardon +the man who is the father of these miserable water-bearers; but, +before having the decree drawn up, I had the lists of the exiles to the +gold-mines carefully looked through, and there it was discovered that +Philotas and his wife have both been dead more than half a year. Death +has settled this question, and I cannot grant to Publius the first +service he has asked of me--asked with great urgency too. I am sorry for +this, both for his sake and for that of poor Philotas, who was held in +high esteem by our mother.” + +“May the ravens devour them!” answered Cleopatra, pressing her forehead +against the ivory frame which surrounded the stuffed back of her seat. +“Once more I beg of you excuse me from all further speech.” This time +the two kings obeyed her wishes. When Euergetes offered her his hand she +said with downcast eyes, and poking her fan-stick into the wool of the +carpet: + +“I will visit you early to-morrow.” + +“After the first sacrifice,” added Euergetes. “If I know you well, +something that you will then hear will please you greatly; very greatly +indeed, I should think. Bring the children with you; that I ask of you +as a birthday request.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +The royal chariot in which Klea was standing, wrapped in the cloak and +wearing the hat of the captain of the civic guard, went swiftly and +without stopping through the streets of Memphis. As long as she saw +houses with lighted windows on each side of the way, and met riotous +soldiers and quiet citizens going home from the taverns, or from working +late in their workshops, with lanterns in their hands or carried by +their slaves--so long her predominant feeling was one of hatred to +Publius; and mixed with this was a sentiment altogether new to her--a +sentiment that made her blood boil, and her heart now stand still +and then again beat wildly--the thought that he might be a wretched +deceiver. Had he not attempted to entrap one of them--whether her sister +or herself it was all the same--wickedly to betray her, and to get her +into his power! + +“With me,” thought she, “he could not hope to gain his evil ends, +and when he saw that I knew how to protect myself he lured the poor +unresisting child away with him, in order to ruin her and to drag her +into shame and misery. Just like Rome herself, who seizes on one country +after another to make them her own, so is this ruthless man. No sooner +had that villain Eulaeus’ letter reached him, than he thought himself +justified in believing that I too was spellbound by a glance from his +eyes, and would spread my wings to fly into his arms; and so he put +out his greedy hand to catch me too, and threw aside the splendor and +delights of a royal banquet to hurry by night out into the desert, +and to risk a hideous death--for the avenging deities still punish the +evildoer.” + +By this time she was shrouded in total darkness, for the moon was still +hidden by black clouds. Memphis was already behind her, and the chariot +was passing through a tall-stemmed palm-grove, where even at mid-day +deep shades intermingled with the sunlight. When, just at this spot, +the thought once more pierced her soul that the seducer was devoted to +death, she felt as though suddenly a bright glaring light had flashed up +in her and round her, and she could have broken out into a shout of joy +like one who, seeking retribution for blood, places his foot at last on +the breast of his fallen foe. She clenched her teeth tightly and grasped +her girdle, in which she had stuck the knife given her by the smith. + +If the charioteer by her side had been Publius, she would have stabbed +him to the heart with the weapon with delight, and then have thrown +herself under the horses’ hoofs and the brazen wheels of the chariot. + +But no! Still more gladly would she have found him dying in the desert, +and before his heart had ceased to beat have shouted in his ear how much +she hated him; and then, when his breast no longer heaved a breath--then +she would have flung herself upon him, and have kissed his dimmed eyes. + +Her wildest thoughts of vengeance were as inseparable from tender pity +and the warmest longings of a heart overflowing with love, as the dark +waters of a river are from the brighter flood of a stream with which +it has recently mingled. All the passionate impulses which had hitherto +been slumbering in her soul were set free, and now raised their +clamorous voices as she was whirled across the desert through the gloom +of night. The wishes roused in her breast by her hatred appealing to her +on one side and her love singing in her ear, in tempting flute-tones, on +the other, jostled and hustled one another, each displacing the other as +they crowded her mind in wild confusion. As she proceeded on her journey +she felt that she could have thrown herself like a tigress on her +victim, and yet--like an outcast woman--have flung herself at Publius’ +knees in supplication for the love that was denied her. She had lost all +idea of time and distance, and started as from a wild and bewildering +dream when the chariot suddenly halted, and the driver said in his rough +tones: + +“Here we are, I must turn back again.” + +She shuddered, drew the cloak more closely round her, sprang out on to +the road, and stood there motionless till the charioteer said: + +“I have not spared my horses, my noble gentleman. Won’t you give me +something to get a drop of wine?” Klea’s whole possessions were two +silver drachma, of which she herself owned one and the other belonged to +Irene. On the last anniversary but one of his mother’s death, the king +had given at the temple a sum to be divided among all the attendants, +male and female, who served Serapis, and a piece of silver had fallen to +the share of herself and her sister. Klea had them both about her in a +little bag, which also contained a ring that her mother had given her at +parting, and the amulet belonging to Serapion. The girl took out the two +silver coins and gave them to the driver, who, after testing the liberal +gift with his fingers, cried out as he turned his horses: + +“A pleasant night to you, and may Aphrodite and all the Loves be +favorable!” + +“Irene’s drachma!” muttered Klea to herself, as the chariot rolled away. +The sweet form of her sister rose before her mind; she recalled the hour +when the girl--still but a child--had entrusted it to her, because she +lost everything unless Klea took charge of it for her. + +“Who will watch her and care for her now?” she asked herself, and she +stood thinking, trying to defend herself against the wild wishes which +again began to stir in her, and to collect her scattered thoughts. She +had involuntarily avoided the beam of light which fell across the road +from the tavern-window, and yet she could not help raising her eyes and +looking along it, and she found herself looking through the darkness +which enveloped her, straight into the faces of two men whose gaze was +directed to the very spot where she was standing. And what faces they +were that she saw! One, a fat face, framed in thick hair and a short, +thick and ragged beard, was of a dusky brown and as coarse and brutal as +the other was smooth, colorless and lean, cruel and crafty. The eyes of +the first of these ruffians were prominent, weak and bloodshot, with a +fixed glassy stare, while those of the other seemed always to be on the +watch with a restless and uneasy leer. + +These were Euergetes’ assassins--they must be! Spellbound with terror +and revulsion she stood quite still, fearing only that the ruffians +might hear the beating of her heart, for she felt as if it were a hammer +swung up and down in an empty space, and beating with loud echoes, now +in her bosom and now in her throat. + +“The young gentleman must have gone round behind the tavern--he knows +the shortest way to the ‘tombs. Let us go after him, and finish off the +business at once,” said the broad-shouldered villain in a hoarse whisper +that broke down every now and then, and which seemed to Klea even more +repulsive than the monster’s face. + +“So that he may hear us go after him-stupid!” answered the other. “When +he has been waiting for his sweetheart about a quarter of an hour I +will call his name in a woman’s voice, and at his first step towards the +desert do you break his neck with the sand-bag. We have plenty of time +yet, for it must still be a good half hour before midnight.” + +“So much the better,” said the other. “Our wine-jar is not nearly empty +yet, and we paid the lazy landlord for it in advance, before he crept +into bed.” + +“You shall only drink two cups more,” said the punier villain. “For this +time we have to do with a sturdy fellow, Setnam is not with us now to +lend a hand in the work, and the dead meat must show no gaping thrusts +or cuts. My teeth are not like yours when you are fasting--even cooked +food must not be too tough for them to chew it, now-a-days. If you soak +yourself in drink and fail in your blow, and I am not ready with the +poisoned stiletto the thing won’t come off neatly. But why did not the +Roman let his chariot wait?” + +“Aye! why did he let it go away?” asked the other staring open-mouthed +in the direction where the sound of wheels was still to be heard. His +companion mean while laid his hand to his ear, and listened. Both were +silent for a few minutes, then the thin one said: + +“The chariot has stopped at the first tavern. So much the better. The +Roman has valuable cattle in his shafts, and at the inn down there, +there is a shed for horses. Here in this hole there is hardly a stall +for an ass, and nothing but sour wine and mouldy beer. I don’t like the +rubbish, and save my coin for Alexandria and white Mariotic; that is +strengthening and purifies the blood. For the present I only wish we +were as well off as those horses; they will have plenty of time to +recover their breath.” + +“Yes, plenty of time,” answered the other with a broad grin, and then he +with his companion withdrew into the room to fill his cup. + +Klea too could hear that the chariot which had brought her hither, +had halted at the farther tavern, but it did not occur to her that +the driver had gone in to treat himself to wine with half of Irene’s +drachma. The horses should make up for the lost time, and they could +easily do it, for when did the king’s banquets ever end before midnight? + +As soon as Plea saw that the assassins were filling their earthen cups, +she slipped softly on tiptoe behind the tavern; the moon came out from +behind the clouds for a few minutes, she sought and found the short way +by the desert-path to the Apis-tombs, and hastened rapidly along it. She +looked straight before her, for whenever she glanced at the road-side, +and her eye was caught by some dried up shrub of the desert, silvery +in the pale moonlight, she fancied she saw behind it the face of a +murderer. + +The skeletons of fallen beasts standing up out of the dust, and the +bleached jawbones of camels and asses, which shone much whiter than the +desert-sand on which they lay, seemed to have come to life and motion, +and made her think of the tiger-teeth of the bearded ruffian. + +The clouds of dust driven in her face by the warm west wind, which had +risen higher, increased her alarm, for they were mingled with the colder +current of the night-breeze; and again and again she felt as if spirits +were driving her onwards with their hot breath, and stroking her face +with their cold fingers. Every thing that her senses perceived was +transformed by her heated imagination into a fearful something; but more +fearful and more horrible than anything she heard, than any phantom that +met her eye in the ghastly moonlight, were her own thoughts of what +was to be done now, in the immediate future--of the fearful fate that +threatened the Roman and Irene; and she was incapable of separating one +from the other in her mind, for one influence alone possessed her, +heart and soul: dread, dread; the same boundless, nameless, deadly +dread--alike of mortal peril and irremediable shame, and of the airiest +phantoms and the merest nothings. + +A large black cloud floated slowly across the moon and utter darkness +hid everything around, even the undefined forms which her imagination +had turned to images of dread. She was forced to moderate her pace, and +find her way, feeling each step; and just as to a child some hideous +form that looms before him vanishes into nothingness when he covers his +eyes with his hand, so the profound darkness which now enveloped her, +suddenly released her soul from a hundred imaginary terrors. + +She stood still, drew a deep breath, collected the whole natural force +of her will, and asked herself what she could do to avert the horrid +issue. + +Since seeing the murderers every thought of revenge, every wish to +punish the seducer with death, had vanished from her mind; one desire +alone possessed her now--that of rescuing him, the man, from the +clutches of these ravening beasts. Walking slowly onwards she repeated +to herself every word she had heard that referred to Publius and Irene +as spoken by Euergetes, Eulaeus, the recluse, and the assassins, and +recalled every step she had taken since she left the temple; thus she +brought herself back to the consciousness that she had come out and +faced danger and endured terror, solely and exclusively for Irene’s +sake. The image of her sister rose clearly before her mind in all its +bright charm, undimmed by any jealous grudge which, indeed, ever +since her passion had held her in its toils had never for the smallest +fraction of a minute possessed her. + +Irene had grown up under her eye, sheltered by her care, in the sunshine +of her love. To take care of her, to deny herself, and bear the severest +fatigue for her had been her pleasure; and now as she appealed to her +father--as she wont to do--as if he were present, and asked him in an +inaudible cry: “Tell me, have I not done all for her that I could do?” + and said to herself that he could not possibly answer her appeal but +with assent, her eyes filled with tears; the bitterness and discontent +which had lately filled her breast gradually disappeared, and a gentle, +calm, refreshing sense of satisfaction came over her spirit, like a +cooling breeze after a scorching day. + +As she now again stood still, straining her eyes which were growing more +accustomed to the darkness, to discover one of the temples at the end +of the alley of sphinxes, suddenly and unexpectedly at her right hand a +solemn and many-voiced hymn of lamentation fell upon her ear. This was +from the priests of Osiris-Apis who were performing the sacred mysteries +of their god, at midnight, on the roof of the temple. She knew the hymn +well--a lament for the deceased Osiris which implored him with urgent +supplication to break the power of death, to rise again, to bestow new +light and new vitality on the world and on men, and to vouchsafe to all +the departed a new existence. + +The pious lament had a powerful effect on her excited spirit. Her +parents too perhaps had passed through death, and were now taking part +in the conduct of the destiny of the world and of men in union with the +life giving God. Her breath came fast, she threw up her arms, and, for +the first time since in her wrath she had turned her back on the holy +of holies in the temple of Serapis, she poured forth her whole soul with +passionate fervor in a deep and silent prayer for strength to fulfil her +duty to the end,--for some sign to show her the way to save Irene from +misfortune, and Publius from death. And as she prayed she felt no +longer alone--no, it seemed to her that she stood face to face with +the invincible Power which protects the good, in whom she now again had +faith, though for Him she knew no name; as a daughter, pursued by foes, +might clasp her powerful father’s knees and claim his succor. + +She had not stood thus with uplifted arms for many minutes when the +moon, once more appearing, recalled her to herself and to actuality. +She now perceived close to her, at hardly a hundred paces from where she +stood, the line of sphinxes by the side of which lay the tombs of Apis +near which she was to await Publius. Her heart began to beat faster +again, and her dread of her own weakness revived. In a few minutes she +must meet the Roman, and, involuntarily putting up her hand to smooth +her hair, she was reminded that she still wore Glaucus’ hat on her head +and his cloak wrapped round her shoulders. Lifting up her heart again +in a brief prayer for a calm and collected mind, she slowly arranged her +dress and its folds, and as she did so the key of the tomb-cave, which +she still had about her, fell under her hand. An idea flashed through +her brain--she caught at it, and with hurried breath followed it out, +till she thought she had now hit upon the right way to preserve from +death the man who was so rich and powerful, who had given her nothing +but taken everything from her, and to whom, nevertheless, she--the poor +water-bearer whom he had thought to trifle with--could now bestow the +most precious of the gifts of the immortals, namely, life. + +Serapion had said, and she was willing to believe, that Publius was not +base, and he certainly was not one of those who could prove ungrateful +to a preserver. She longed to earn the right to demand something of him, +and that could be nothing else but that he should give up her sister and +bring Irene back to her. + +When could it be that he had come to an understanding with the +inexperienced and easily wooed maiden? How ready she must have been to +clasp the hand held out to her by this man! Nothing surprised her in +Irene, the child of the present; she could comprehend too that Irene’s +charm might quickly win the heart even of a grave and serious man. + +And yet--in all the processions it was never Irene that he had gazed at, +but always herself, and how came it to pass that he had given a prompt +and ready assent to the false invitation to go out to meet her in the +desert at midnight? Perhaps she was still nearer to his heart than +Irene, and if gratitude drew him to her with fresh force then--aye +then--he might perhaps woo her, and forget his pride and her lowly +position, and ask her to be his wife. + +She thought this out fully, but before she had reached the half circle +enclosed by the Philosophers’ busts the question occurred to her mind. +And Irene? + +Had she gone with him and quitted her without bidding her farewell +because the young heart was possessed with a passionate love for +Publius--who was indeed the most lovable of men? And he? Would he +indeed, out of gratitude for what she hoped to do for him, make up his +mind, if she demanded it, to make her Irene his wife--the poor but more +than lovely daughter of a noble house? + +And if this were possible, if these two could be happy in love and +honor, should she Klea come between the couple to divide them? Should +she jealously snatch Irene from his arms and carry her back to the +gloomy temple which now--after she had fluttered awhile in sportive +freedom in the sunny air--would certainly seem to her doubly +sinister and unendurable? Should she be the one to plunge Irene into +misery--Irene, her child, the treasure confided to her care, whom she +had sworn to cherish? + +“No, and again no,” she said resolutely. “She was born for happiness, +and I for endurance, and if I dare beseech thee to grant me one thing +more, O thou infinite Divinity! it is that Thou wouldst cut out from my +soul this love which is eating into my heart as though it were rotten +wood, and keep me far from envy and jealousy when I see her happy in his +arms. It is hard--very hard to drive one’s own heart out into the desert +in order that spring may blossom in that of another: but it is well +so--and my mother would commend me and my father would say I had acted +after his own heart, and in obedience to the teaching of the great men +on these pedestals. Be still, be still my aching heart--there--that is +right!” + +Thus reflecting she went past the busts of Zeno and Chrysippus, glancing +at their features distinct in the moonlight: and her eyes falling on +the smooth slabs of stone with which the open space was paved, her own +shadow caught her attention, black and sharply defined, and exactly +resembling that of some man travelling from one town to another in his +cloak and broad-brimmed hat. + +“Just like a man!” she muttered to herself; and as, at the same moment, +she saw a figure resembling her own, and, like herself, wearing a hat, +appear near the entrance to the tombs, and fancied she recognized it as +Publius, a thought, a scheme, flashed through her excited brain, which +at first appalled her, but in the next instant filled her with the +ecstasy which an eagle may feel when he spreads his mighty wings and +soars above the dust of the earth into the pure and infinite ether. Her +heart beat high, she breathed deeply and slowly, but she advanced to +meet the Roman, drawn up to her full height like a queen, who goes +forward to receive some equal sovereign; her hat, which she had taken +off, in her left hand, and the Smith’s key in her right-straight on +towards the door of the Apis-tombs. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +The man whom Klea had seen was in fact none other than Publius. He was +now at the end of a busy day, for after he had assured himself that +Irene had been received by the sculptor and his wife, and welcomed as if +she were their own child, he had returned to his tent to write once more +a dispatch to Rome. But this he could not accomplish, for his friend +Lysias paced restlessly up and down by him as he sat, and as often as +he put the reed to the papyrus disturbed him with enquiries about the +recluse, the sculptor, and their rescued protegee. + +When, finally, the Corinthian desired to know whether he, Publius, +considered Irene’s eyes to be brown or blue, he had sprung up +impatiently, and exclaimed indignantly: + +“And supposing they were red or green, what would it matter to me!” + +Lysias seemed pleased rather than vexed with this reply, and he was on +the point of confessing to his friend that Irene had caused in his heart +a perfect conflagration--as of a forest or a city in flames--when a +master of the horse had appeared from Euergetes, to present the four +splendid horses from Cyrene, which his master requested the noble Roman +Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica to accept in token of his friendship. + +The two friends, who both were judges and lovers of horses, spent +at least an hour in admiring the fine build and easy paces of these +valuable beasts. Then came a chamberlain from the queen to invite +Publius to go to her at once. + +The Roman followed the messenger after a short delay in his tent, in +order to take with him the gems representing the marriage of Hebe, for +on his way from the sculptor’s to the palace it had occurred to him +that he would offer them to the queen, after he had informed her of +the parentage of the two water-carriers. Publius had keen eyes, and the +queen’s weaknesses had not escaped him, but he had never suspected +her of being capable of abetting her licentious brother in forcibly +possessing himself of the innocent daughter of a noble father. He now +purposed to make her a present--as in some degree a substitute for +the representation his friend had projected, and which had come +to nothing--of the picture which she had hoped to find pleasure in +reproducing. + +Cleopatra received him on her roof, a favor of which few could boast; +she allowed him to sit at her feet while she reclined on her couch, and +gave him to understand, by every glance of her eyes and every word she +spoke, that his presence was a happiness to her, and filled her with +passionate delight. Publius soon contrived to lead the conversation to +the subject of the innocent parents of the water-bearers, who had been +sent off to the goldmines; but Cleopatra interrupted his speech in their +favor and asked him plainly, undisguisedly, and without any agitation, +whether it was true that he himself desired to win the youthful Hebe. +And she met his absolute denial with such persistent and repeated +expressions of disbelief, assuming at last a tone of reproach, that he +grew vexed and broke out into a positive declaration that he regarded +lying as unmanly and disgraceful, and could endure any insult rather +than a doubt of his veracity. + +Such a vehement and energetic remonstrance from a man she had +distinguished was a novelty to Cleopatra, and she did not take it amiss, +for she might now believe--what she much wished to believe--that Publius +wanted to have nothing to do with the fair Hebe, that Eulaeus had +slandered her friend, and that Zoe had been in error when, after +her vain expedition to the temple--from which she had then just +returned--she had told her that the Roman was Irene’s lover, and must at +the earliest hour have betrayed to the girl herself, or to the priests +in the Serapeum, what was their purpose regarding her. + +In the soul of this noble youth there was nothing false--there could be +nothing false! And she, who was accustomed never to hear a word from +the men who surrounded her without asking herself with what aim it was +spoken, and how much of it was dissimulation or downright falsehood, +trusted the Roman, and was so happy in her trust that, full of gracious +gaiety, she herself invited Publius to give her the recluse’s petition +to read. The Roman at once gave her the roll, saying that since it +contained so much that was sad, much as he hoped she would make herself +acquainted with it, he felt himself called upon also to give her +some pleasure, though in truth but a very small one. Thus speaking he +produced the gems, and she showed as much delight over this little work +of art as if, instead of being a rich queen and possessed of the finest +engraved gems in the world, she were some poor girl receiving her first +gift of some long-desired gold ornament. + +“Exquisite, splendid!” she cried again and again. “And besides, they +are an imperishable memorial of you, dear friend, and of your visit to +Egypt. I will have them set with the most precious stones; even diamonds +will seem worthless to me compared with this gift from you. This has +already decided my sentence as to Eulaeus and his unhappy victims +before I read your petition. Still I will read that roll, and read +it attentively, for my husband regards Eulaeus as a useful--almost an +indispensable-tool, and I must give good reasons for my verdict and for +the pardon. I believe in the innocence of the unfortunate Philotas, +but if he had committed a hundred murders, after this present I would +procure his freedom all the same.” + +The words vexed the Roman, and they made her who had spoken them in +order to please him appear to him at that moment more in the light of a +corruptible official than of a queen. He found the time hang heavy +that he spent with Cleopatra, who, in spite of his reserve, gave him +to understand with more and more insistence how warmly she felt towards +him; but the more she talked and the more she told him, the more silent +he became, and he breathed a sigh of relief when her husband at last +appeared to fetch him and Cleopatra away to their mid-day meal. + +At table Philometor promised to take up the cause of Philotas and his +wife, both of whom he had known, and whose fate had much grieved him; +still he begged his wife and the Roman not to bring Eulaeus to justice +till Euergetes should have left Memphis, for, during his brother’s +presence, beset as he was with difficulties, he could not spare him; and +if he might judge of Publius by himself he cared far more to reinstate +the innocent in their rights, and to release them from their miserable +lot--a lot of which he had only learned the full horrors quite recently +from his tutor Agatharchides--than to drag a wretch before the judges +to-morrow or the day after, who was unworthy of his anger, and who at +any rate should not escape punishment. + +Before the letter from Asclepiodorus--stating the mistaken hypothesis +entertained by the priests of Serapis that Irene had been carried off +by the king’s order--could reach the palace, Publius had found an +opportunity of excusing himself and quitting the royal couple. Not even +Cleopatra herself could raise any objection to his distinct assurance +that he must write to Rome today on matters of importance. Philometor’s +favor was easy to win, and as soon as he was alone with his wife he +could not find words enough in praise of the noble qualities of the +young man, who seemed destined in the future to be of the greatest +service to him and to his interests at Rome, and whose friendly attitude +towards himself was one more advantage that he owed--as he was happy to +acknowledge--to the irresistible talents and grace of his wife. + +When Publius had quitted the palace and hurried back to his tent, he +felt like a journeyman returning from a hard day’s labor, or a man +acquitted from a serious charge; like one who had lost his way, and has +found the right road again. + +The heavy air in the arbors and alleys of the embowered gardens seemed +to him easier to breathe than the cool breeze that fanned Cleopatra’s +raised roof. He felt the queen’s presence to be at once exciting and +oppressive, and in spite of all that was flattering to himself in the +advances made to him by the powerful princess, it was no more gratifying +to his taste than an elegantly prepared dish served on gold plate, which +we are forced to partake of though poison may be hidden in it, and which +when at last we taste it is sickeningly sweet. + +Publius was an honest man, and it seemed to him--as to all who resemble +him--that love which was forced upon him was like a decoration of honor +bestowed by a hand which we do not respect, and that we would rather +refuse than accept; or like praise out of all proportion to our merit, +which may indeed delight a fool, but rouses the indignation rather than +the gratitude of a wise man. It struck him too that Cleopatra intended +to make use of him, in the first place as a toy to amuse herself, and +then as a useful instrument or underling, and this so gravely incensed +and discomfited the serious and sensitive young man that he would +willingly have quitted Memphis and Egypt at once and without any +leave-taking. However, it was not quite easy for him to get away, for +all his thoughts of Cleopatra were mixed up with others of Klea, as +inseparably as when we picture to ourselves the shades of night, the +tender light of the calm moon rises too before our fancy. + +Having saved Irene, his present desire was to restore her parents to +liberty; to quit Egypt without having seen Klea once more seemed to him +absolutely impossible. He endeavored once more to revive in his mind the +image of her proud tall figure; he felt he must tell her that she was +beautiful, a woman worthy of a king--that he was her friend and hated +injustice, and was ready to sacrifice much for justice’s sake and for +her own in the service of her parents and herself. To-day again, before +the banquet, he purposed to go to the temple, and to entreat the recluse +to help him to an interview with his adopted daughter. + +If only Klea could know beforehand what he had been doing for Irene and +their parents she must surely let him see that her haughty eyes could +look kindly on him, must offer him her hand in farewell, and then he +should clasp it in both his, and press it to his breast. Then would he +tell her in the warmest and most inspired words he could command how +happy he was to have seen her and known her, and how painful it was to +bid her farewell; perhaps she might leave her hand in his, and give +him some kind word in return. One kind word--one phrase of thanks from +Klea’s firm but beautiful mouth--seemed to him of higher value than a +kiss or an embrace from the great and wealthy Queen of Egypt. + +When Publius was excited he could be altogether carried away by a sudden +sweep of passion, but his imagination was neither particularly lively +nor glowing. While his horses were being harnessed, and then while +he was driving to the Serapeum, the tall form of the water-bearer was +constantly before him; again and again he pictured himself holding her +hand instead of the reins, and while he repeated to himself all he meant +to say at parting, and in fancy heard her thank him with a trembling +voice for his valuable help, and say that she would never forget him, he +felt his eyes moisten--unused as they had been to tears for many years. +He could not help recalling the day when he had taken leave of his +family to go to the wars for the first time. Then it had not been his +own eyes but his mother’s that had sparkled through tears, and it struck +him that Klea, if she could be compared to any other woman, was most +like to that noble matron to whom he owed his life, and that she might +stand by the side of the daughter of the great Scipio Africanus like a +youthful Minerva by the side of Juno, the stately mother of the gods. + +His disappointment was great when he found the door of the temple +closed, and was forced to return to Memphis without having seen either +Klea or the recluse. + +He could try again to-morrow to accomplish what had been impossible +to-day, but his wish to see the girl he loved, rose to a torturing +longing, and as he sat once more in his tent to finish his second +despatch to Rome the thought of Klea came again to disturb his serious +work. Twenty times he started up to collect his thoughts, and as often +flung away his reed as the figure of the water-bearer interposed between +him and the writing under his hand; at last, out of patience with +himself, he struck the table in front of him with some force, set his +fists in his sides hard enough to hurt himself, and held them there for +a minute, ordering himself firmly and angrily to do his duty before he +thought of anything else. + +His iron will won the victory; by the time it was growing dusk the +despatch was written. He was in the very act of stamping the wax of +the seal with the signet of his family--engraved on the sardonyx of his +ring--when one of his servants announced a black slave who desired to +speak with him. Publius ordered that he should be admitted, and the +negro handed him the tile on which Eulaeus had treacherously written +Klea’s invitation to meet her at midnight near the Apis-tombs. His +enemy’s crafty-looking emissary seemed to the young man as a messenger +from the gods; in a transport of haste and, without the faintest shadow +of a suspicion he wrote, “I will be there,” on the luckless piece of +clay. + +Publius was anxious to give the letter to the Senate, which he had just +finished, with his own hand, and privately, to the messenger who had +yesterday brought him the despatch from Rome; and as he would rather +have set aside an invitation to carry off a royal treasure that same +night than have neglected to meet Klea, he could not in any case be a +guest at the king’s banquet, though Cleopatra would expect to see him +there in accordance with his promise. At this juncture he was annoyed to +miss his friend Lysias, for he wished to avoid offending the queen; +and the Corinthian, who at this moment was doubtless occupied in some +perfectly useless manner, was as clever in inventing plausible excuses +as he himself was dull in such matters. He hastily wrote a few lines to +the friend who shared his tent, requesting him to inform the king that +he had been prevented by urgent business from appearing among his guests +that evening; then he threw on his cloak, put on his travelling-hat +which shaded his face, and proceeded on foot and without any servant to +the harbor, with his letter in one hand and a staff in the other. + +The soldiers and civic guards which filled the courts of the palace, +taking him for a messenger, did not challenge him as he walked swiftly +and firmly on, and so, without being detained or recognized, he reached +the inn by the harbor, where he was forced to wait an hour before the +messenger came home from the gay strangers’ quarter where he had gone to +amuse himself. He had a great deal to talk of with this man, who was to +set out next morning for Alexandria and Rome; but Publius hardly gave +himself the necessary time, for he meant to start for the meeting place +in the Necropolis indicated by Klea, and well-known to himself, a +full hour before midnight, although he knew that he could reach his +destination in a very much shorter time. + +The sun seems to move too slowly to those who long and wait, and a +planet would be more likely to fail in punctuality than a lover when +called by love. + +In order to avoid observation he did not take a chariot but a strong +mule which the host of the inn lent him with pleasure; for the Roman +was so full of happy excitement in the hope of meeting Klea that he +had slipped a gold piece into the small, lightly-closed fingers of the +innkeeper’s pretty child, which lay asleep on a bench by the side of the +table, besides paying double as much for the country wine he had drunk +as if it had been fine Falernian and without asking for his reckoning. +The host looked at him in astonishment when, finally, he sprang with a +grand leap on to the back of the tall beast, without laying his hand on +it; and it seemed even to Publius himself as though he had never since +boyhood felt so fresh, so extravagantly happy as at this moment. + +The road to the tombs from the harbor was a different one to that which +led thither from the king’s palace, and which Klea had taken, nor did it +lead past the tavern in which she had seen the murderers. By day it was +much used by pilgrims, and the Roman could not miss it even by night, +for the mule he was riding knew it well. That he had learned, for in +answer to his question as to what the innkeeper kept the beast for he +had said that it was wanted every day to carry pilgrims arriving from +Upper Egypt to the temple of Serapis and the tombs of the sacred bulls; +he could therefore very decidedly refuse the host’s offer to send a +driver with the beast. All who saw him set out supposed that he was +returning to the city and the palace. + +Publius rode through the streets of the city at an easy trot, and, as +the laughter of soldiers carousing in a tavern fell upon his ear, he +could have joined heartily in their merriment. But when the silent +desert lay around him, and the stars showed him that he would be much +too early at the appointed place, he brought the mule to a slower pace, +and the nearer he came to his destination the graver he grew, and the +stronger his heart beat. It must be something important and pressing +indeed that Klea desired to tell him in such a place and at such an +hour. Or was she like a thousand other women--was he now on the way to +a lover’s meeting with her, who only a few days before had responded to +his glance and accepted his violets? + +This thought flashed once through his mind with importunate +distinctness, but he dismissed it as absurd and unworthy of himself. +A king would be more likely to offer to share his throne with a beggar +than this girl would be to invite him to enjoy the sweet follies of +love-making with her in a secret spot. + +Of course she wanted above all things to acquire some certainty as to +her sister’s fate, perhaps too to speak to him of her parents; still, +she would hardly have made up her mind to invite him if she had not +learned to trust him, and this confidence filled him with pride, and at +the same time with an eager longing to see her, which seemed to storm +his heart with more violence with every minute that passed. + +While the mule sought and found its way in the deep darkness with slow +and sure steps, he gazed up at the firmament, at the play of the clouds +which now covered the moon with their black masses, and now parted, +floating off in white sheeny billows while the silver crescent of the +moon showed between them like a swan against the dark mirror of a lake. + +And all the time he thought incessantly of Klea--thinking in a dreamy +way that he saw her before him, but different and taller than before, +her form growing more and more before his eyes till at last it was so +tall that her head touched the sky, the clouds seemed to be her veil, +and the moon a brilliant diadem in her abundant dark hair. Powerfully +stirred by this vision he let the bridle fall on the mule’s neck, and +spread open his arms to the beautiful phantom, but as he rode forwards +it ever retired, and when presently the west wind blew the sand in his +face, and he had to cover his eyes with his hand it vanished entirely, +and did not return before he found himself at the Apis-tombs. + +He had hoped to find here a soldier or a watchman to whom he could +entrust the beast, but when the midnight chant of the priests of the +temple of Osiris-Apis had died away not a sound was to be heard far or +near; all that lay around him was as still and as motionless as though +all that had ever lived there were dead. Or had some demon robbed him +of his hearing? He could hear the rush of his own swift pulses in his +ears-not the faintest sound besides. + +Such silence is there nowhere but in the city of the dead and at night, +nowhere but in the desert. + +He tied the mule’s bridle to a stela of granite covered with +inscriptions, and went forward to the appointed place. Midnight must be +past--that he saw by the position of the moon, and he was beginning to +ask himself whether he should remain standing where he was or go on to +meet the water-bearer when he heard first a light footstep, and then saw +a tall erect figure wrapped in a long mantle advancing straight towards +him along the avenue of sphinxes. Was it a man or a woman--was it she +whom he expected? and if it were she, was there ever a woman who had +come to meet a lover at an assignation with so measured, nay so solemn, +a step? Now he recognized her face--was it the pale moonlight that made +it look so bloodless and marble-white? There was something rigid in her +features, and yet they had never--not even when she blushingly accepted +his violets--looked to him so faultlessly beautiful, so regular and so +nobly cut, so dignified, nay impressive. + +For fully a minute the two stood face to face, speechless and yet quite +near to each other. Then Publius broke the silence, uttering with the +warmest feeling and yet with anxiety in his deep, pure voice, only one +single word; and the word was her name “Klea.” + +The music of this single word stirred the girl’s heart like a message +and blessing from heaven, like the sweetest harmony of the siren’s song, +like the word of acquittal from a judge’s lips when the verdict is life +or death, and her lips were already parted to say ‘Publius’ in a tone +no less deep and heartfelt-but, with all the force of her soul, she +restrained herself, and said softly and quickly: + +“You are here at a late hour, and it is well that you have come.” + +“You sent for me,” replied the Roman. + +“It was another that did that, not I,” replied Klea in a slow dull tone, +as if she were lifting a heavy weight, and could hardly draw her breath. +“Now--follow me, for this is not the place to explain everything in.” + +With these words Klea went towards the locked door of the Apis-tombs, +and tried, as she stood in front of it, to insert into the lock the +key that Krates had given her; but the lock was still so new, and her +fingers shook so much, that she could not immediately succeed. Publius +meanwhile was standing close by her side, and as he tried to help her +his fingers touched hers. + +And when he--certainly not by mistake--laid his strong and yet trembling +hand on hers, she let it stay for a moment, for she felt as if a tide of +warm mist rose up in her bosom dimming her perceptions, and paralyzing +her will and blurring her sight. + +“Klea,” he repeated, and he tried to take her left hand in his own; +but she, like a person suddenly aroused to consciousness after a short +dream, immediately withdrew the hand on which his was resting, put the +key into the lock, opened the door, and exclaimed in a voice of almost +stern command, “Go in first.” + +Publius obeyed and entered the spacious antechamber of the venerable +cave, hewn out of the rock and now dimly lighted. A curved passage of +which he could not see the end lay before him, and on both sides, to +the right and left of him, opened out the chambers in which stood the +sarcophagi of the deceased sacred bulls. Over each of the enormous stone +coffins a lamp burnt day and night, and wherever a vault stood open +their glimmer fell across the deep gloom of the cave, throwing a bright +beam of light on the dusky path that led into the heart of the rock, +like a carpet woven of rays of light. + +What place was this that Klea had chosen to speak with him in. + +But though her voice sounded firm, she herself was not cool and +insensible as Orcus--which this place, which was filled with the fumes +of incense and weighed upon his senses, much resembled--for he had felt +her fingers tremble under his, and when he went up to her, to help her, +her heart beat no less violently and rapidly than his own. Ah! the man +who should succeed in touching that heart of hard, but pure and precious +crystal would indeed enjoy a glorious draught of the most perfect bliss. + +“This is our destination,” said Klea; and then she went on in short +broken sentences. “Remain where you are. Leave me this place near the +door. Now, answer me first one question. My sister Irene has vanished +from the temple. Did you cause her to be carried off?” + +“I did,” replied Publius eagerly. “She desired me to greet you from her, +and to tell you how much she likes her new friends. When I shall have +told you--” + +“Not now,” interrupted Klea excitedly. “Turn round--there where you see +the lamp-light.” Publius did as he was desired, and a slight shudder +shook even his bold heart, for the girl’s sayings and doings seemed +to him not solemn merely, but mysterious like those of a prophetess. +A violent crash sounded through the silent and sacred place, and loud +echoes were tossed from side to side, ringing ominously throughout the +grotto. Publius turned anxiously round, and his eye, seeking Klea, found +her no more; then, hurrying to the door of the cave, he heard her lock +it on the outside. + +The water-bearer had escaped him, had flung the heavy door to, and +imprisoned him; and this idea was to the Roman so degrading and +unendurable that, lost to every feeling but rage, wounded pride, and +the wild desire to be free, he kicked the door with all his might, and +called out angrily to Klea: + +“Open this door--I command you. Let me free this moment or, by all the +gods--” + +He did not finish his threat, for in the middle of the right-hand panel +of the door a small wicket was opened through which the priests were +wont to puff incense into the tomb of the sacred bulls--and twice, +thrice, finally, when he still would not be pacified, a fourth time, +Klea called out to him: + +“Listen to me--listen to me, Publius.” Publius ceased storming, and she +went on: + +“Do not threaten me, for you will certainly repent it when you have +heard what I have to tell you. Do not interrupt me; I may tell you at +once this door is opened every day before sunrise, so your imprisonment +will not last long; and you must submit to it, for I shut you in to save +your life--yes, your life which was in danger. Do you think my anxiety +was folly? No, Publius, it is only too well founded, and if you, as a +man, are strong and bold, so am I as a woman. I never was afraid of an +imaginary nothing. Judge yourself whether I was not right to be afraid +for you. + +“King Euergetes and Eulaeus have bribed two hideous monsters to murder +you. When I went to seek out Irene I overheard all, and I have seen with +my own eyes the two horrible wolves who are lurking to fall upon you, +and heard with these ears their scheme for doing it. I never wrote the +note on the tile which was signed with my name; Eulaeus did it, and you +took his bait and came out into the desert by night. In a few minutes +the ruffians will have stolen up to this place to seek their victim, but +they will not find you, Publius, for I have saved you--I, Klea, whom you +first met with smiles--whose sister you have stolen away--the same Klea +that you a minute since were ready to threaten. Now, at once, I am going +into the desert, dressed like a traveller in a coat and hat, so that in +the doubtful light of the moon I may easily be taken for you--going to +give my weary heart as a prey to the assassins’ knife.” + +“You are mad!” cried Publius, and he flung himself with his whole weight +on the door, and kicked it with all his strength. “What you purpose is +pure madness open the door, I command you! However strong the villains +may be that Euergetes has bribed, I am man enough to defend myself.” + +“You are unarmed, Publius, and they have cords and daggers.” + +“Then open the door, and stay here with me till day dawns. It is not +noble, it is wicked to cast away your life. Open the door at once, I +entreat you, I command you!” + +At any other time the words would not have failed of their effect on +Klea’s reasonable nature, but the fearful storm of feeling which had +broken over her during the last few hours had borne away in its whirl +all her composure and self-command. The one idea, the one resolution, +the one desire, which wholly possessed her was to close the life +that had been so full of self-sacrifice by the greatest sacrifice +of all--that of life itself, and not only in order to secure Irene’s +happiness and to save the Roman, but because it pleased her--her +father’s daughter--to make a noble end; because she, the maiden, would +fain show Publius what a woman might be capable of who loved him above +all others; because, at this moment, death did not seem a misfortune; +and her mind, overwrought by hours of terrific tension, could not free +itself from the fixed idea that she would and must sacrifice herself. + +She no longer thought these things--she was possessed by them; they had +the mastery, and as a madman feels forced to repeat the same words again +and again to himself, so no prayer, no argument at this moment would +have prevailed to divert her from her purpose of giving up her young +life for Publius and Irene. She contemplated this resolve with affection +and pride as justifying her in looking up to herself as to some nobler +creature. She turned a deaf ear to the Roman’s entreaty, and said in a +tone of which the softness surprised him: + +“Be silent Publius, and hear me further. You too are noble, and +certainly you owe me some gratitude for having saved your life.” + +“I owe you much, and I will pay it,” cried Publius, “as long as there is +breath in this body--but open the door, I beseech you, I implore you--” + +“Hear me to the end, time presses; hear me out, Publius. My sister Irene +went away with you. I need say nothing about her beauty, but how bright, +how sweet her nature is you do not know, you cannot know, but you will +find out. She, you must be told, is as poor as I am, but the child of +freeborn and noble parents. Now swear to me, swear--no, do not interrupt +me--swear by the head of your father that you will never, abandon her, +that you will never behave to her otherwise than as if she were the +daughter of your dearest friend or of your own brother.” + +“I swear it and I will keep my oath--by the life of the man whose head +is more sacred to me than the names of all the gods. But now I beseech +you, I command you open this door, Klea--that I may not lose you--that I +may tell you that my whole heart is yours, and yours alone--that I love +you, love you unboundedly.” + +“I have your oath,” cried the girl in great excitement, for she could +now see a shadow moving backwards and forwards at some distance in the +desert. “You have sworn by the head of your father. Never let Irene +repent having gone with you, and love her always as you fancy now, in +this moment, that you love me, your preserver. Remember both of you the +hapless Klea who would gladly have lived for you, but who now gladly +dies for you. Do not forget me, Publius, for I have never but this once +opened my heart to love, but I have loved you Publius, with pain and +torment, and with sweet delight--as no other woman ever yet revelled in +the ecstasy of love or was consumed in its torments.” She almost shouted +the last words at the Roman as if she were chanting a hymn of triumph, +beside herself, forgetting everything and as if intoxicated. + +Why was he now silent, why had he nothing to answer, since she had +confessed to him the deepest secret of her breast, and allowed him to +look into the inmost sanctuary of her heart? A rush of burning words +from his lips would have driven her off at once to the desert and to +death; his silence held her back--it puzzled her and dropped like cool +rain on the soaring flames of her pride, fell on the raging turmoil of +her soul like oil on troubled water. She could not part from him thus, +and her lips parted to call him once more by his name. + +While she had been making confession of her love to the Roman as if +it were her last will and testament, Publius felt like a man dying +of thirst, who has been led to a flowing well only to be forbidden +to moisten his lips with the limpid fluid. His soul was filled with +passionate rage approaching to despair, and as with rolling eyes he +glanced round his prison an iron crow-bar leaning against the wall met +his gaze; it had been used by the workmen to lift the sarcophagus of the +last deceased Apis into its right place. He seized upon this tool, as a +drowning man flings himself on a floating plank: still he heard Klea’s +last words, and did not lose one of them, though the sweat poured from +his brow as he inserted the metal lever like a wedge between the two +halves of the door, just above the threshold. + +All was now silent outside; perhaps the distracted girl was already +hurrying towards the assassins--and the door was fearfully heavy and +would not open nor yield. But he must force it--he flung himself on the +earth and thrust his shoulder under the lever, pushing his whole +body against the iron bar, so that it seemed to him that every joint +threatened to give way and every sinew to crack; the door rose--once +more he put forth the whole strength of his manly vigor, and now the +seam in the wood cracked, the door flew open, and Klea, seized with +terror, flew off and away--into the desert--straight towards the +murderers. + +Publius leaped to his feet and flung himself out of his prison; as he +saw Klea escape he flew after her with, hasty leaps, and caught her in +a few steps, for her mantle hindered her in running, and when she would +not obey his desire that she should stand still he stood in front of her +and said, not tenderly but sternly and decidedly: + +“You do not go a step farther, I forbid it.” + +“I am going where I must go,” cried the girl in great agitation. “Let me +go, at once!” + +“You will stay here--here with me,” snarled Publius, and taking both +her hands by the wrists he clasped them with his iron fingers as with +handcuffs. “I am the man and you are the woman, and I will teach you who +is to give orders here and who is to obey.” + +Anger and rage prompted these quite unpremeditated words, and as +Klea--while he spoke them with quivering lips--had attempted with the +exertion of all her strength, which was by no means contemptible, to +wrench her hands from his grasp, he forced her--angry as he still was, +but nevertheless with due regard for her womanliness--forced her by a +gentle and yet irresistible pressure on her arms to bend before him, and +compelled her slowly to sink down on both knees. + +As soon as she was in this position, Publius let her free; she covered +her eyes with her aching hands and sobbed aloud, partly from anger, and +because she felt herself bitterly humiliated. + +“Now, stand up,” said Publius in an altered tone as he heard her +weeping. “Is it then such a hard matter to submit to the will of a man +who will not and cannot let you go, and whom you love, besides?” How +gentle and kind the words sounded! Klea, when she heard them, raised her +eyes to Publius, and as she saw him looking down on her as a supplicant +her anger melted and turned to grateful emotion--she went closer to him +on her knees, laid her head against him and said: + +“I have always been obliged to rely upon myself, and to guide another +person with loving counsel, but it must be sweeter far to be led by +affection and I will always, always obey you.” + +“I will thank you with heart and soul henceforth from this hour!” cried +Publius, lifting her up. “You were ready to sacrifice your life for +me, and now mine belongs to you. I am yours and you are mine--I your +husband, you my wife till our life’s end!” + +He laid his hands on her shoulders, and turned her face round to his; +she resisted no longer, for it was sweet to her to yield her will to +that of this strong man. And how happy was she, who from her childhood +had taken it upon herself to be always strong, and self-reliant, to feel +herself the weaker, and to be permitted to trust in a stronger arm than +her own. Somewhat thus a young rose-tree might feel, which for the first +time receives the support of the prop to which it is tied by the careful +gardener. + +Her eyes rested blissfully and yet anxiously on his, and his lips had +just touched hers in a first kiss when they started apart in terror, for +Klea’s name was clearly shouted through the still night-air, and in the +next instant a loud scream rang out close to them followed by dull cries +of pain. + +“The murderers!” shrieked Klea, and trembling for herself and for +him she clung closely to her lover’s breast. In one brief moment the +self-reliant heroine--proud in her death-defying valor--had become a +weak, submissive, dependent woman. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +On the roof of the tower of the pylon by the gate of the Serapeum stood +an astrologer who had mounted to this, the highest part of the temple, +to observe the stars; but it seemed that he was not destined on this +occasion to fulfil his task, for swiftly driving black clouds swept +again and again across that portion of the heavens to which his +observations were principally directed. At last he impatiently laid +aside his instruments, his waxed tablet and style, and desired the +gate-keeper--the father of poor little Philo--whose duty it was to +attend at night on the astrologers on the tower, to carry down all his +paraphernalia, as the heavens were not this evening favorable to his +labors. + +“Favorable!” exclaimed the gate-keeper, catching up the astrologer’s +words, and shrugging his shoulders so high that his head disappeared +between them. + +“It is a night of horror, and some great disaster threatens us for +certain. Fifteen years have I been in my place, and I never saw such a +night but once before, and the very next day the soldiers of Antiochus, +the Syrian king, came and plundered our treasury. Aye--and to-night is +worse even than that was; when the dog-star first rose a horrible shape +with a lion’s mane flew across the desert, but it was not till midnight +that the fearful uproar began, and even you shuddered when it broke out +in the Apis-cave. Frightful things must be coming on us when the sacred +bulls rise from the dead and butt and storm at the door with their +horns to break it open. Many a time have I seen the souls of the dead +fluttering and wheeling and screaming above the old mausoleums, and +rock-tombs of ancient times. Sometimes they would soar up in the air in +the form of hawks with men’s heads, or like ibises with a slow lagging +flight, and sometimes sweep over the desert like gray shapeless shadows, +or glide across the sand like snakes; or they would creep out of the +tombs, howling like hungry dogs. I have often heard them barking like +jackals or laughing like hyenas when they scent carrion, but to-night +is the first time I ever heard them shrieking like furious men, and then +groaning and wailing as if they were plunged in the lake of fire and +suffering horrible torments. + +“Look there--out there--something is moving again! Oh! holy father, +exorcise them with some mighty bann. Do you not see how they are growing +larger? They are twice the size of ordinary mortals.” The astronomer +took an amulet in his hand, muttered a few sentences to himself, +seeking at the same time to discover the figures which had so scared the +gate-keeper. + +“They are indeed tall,” he said when he perceived them. “And now they +are melting into one, and growing smaller and smaller--however, +perhaps they are only men come to rob the tombs, and who happen to be +particularly tall, for these figures are not of supernatural height.” + +“They are twice as tall as you, and you are not short,” cried the +gate-keeper, pressing his lips devoutly to the amulet the astrologer +held in his hand, “and if they are robbers why has no watchman called +out to stop them? How is it their screams and groans have not waked the +sentinels that are posted there every night? There--that was another +fearful cry! Did you ever hear such tones from any human breast? Great +Serapis, I shall die of fright! Come down with me, holy father, that I +may look after my little sick boy, for those who have seen such sights +do not escape unstricken.” + +The peaceful silence of the Necropolis had indeed been disturbed, but +the spirits of the departed had no share in the horrors which had been +transacted this night in the desert, among the monuments and rocktombs. +They were living men that had disturbed the calm of the sacred place, +that had conspired with darkness in cold-blooded cruelty, greater than +that of evil spirits, to achieve the destruction of a fellow-man; but +they were living men too who, in the midst of the horrors of a most +fearful night, had experienced the blossoming in their own souls of the +divinest germ which heaven implants in the bosom of its mortal children. +Thus in a day of battle amid blood and slaughter may a child be born +that shall grow up blessed and blessing, the comfort and joy of his +family. + +The lion-maned monster whose appearance and rapid disappearance in +the desert had first alarmed the gate-keeper, had been met by several +travellers on its way to Memphis, and each and all, horrified by its +uncanny aspect, had taken to flight or tried to hide themselves--and +yet it was no more than a man with warm pulses, an honest purpose, and +a true and loving heart. But those who met him could not see into his +soul, and his external aspect certainly bore little resemblance to that +of other men. + +His feet, unused to walking, moved but clumsily, and had a heavy body +to carry, and his enormous beard and the mass of gray hair on his +head--which he turned now this way and now that--gave him an aspect that +might well scare even a bold man who should meet him unexpectedly. Two +stall-keepers who, by day, were accustomed to offer their wares for sale +near the Serapeum to the pilgrims, met him close to the city. + +“Did you see that panting object?” said one to the other as they looked +after him. “If he were not shut up fast in his cell I could declare it +was Serapion, the recluse.” + +“Nonsense,” replied the other. “He is tied faster by his oath than by +chains and fetters. It must be one of the Syrian beggars that besiege +the temple of Astarte.” + +“Perhaps,” answered his companion with indifference. “Let us get on now, +my wife has a roast goose for supper this evening.” + +Serapion, it is true, was fast tied to his cell, and yet the pedler +had judged rightly, for he it was who hurried along the high-road +frightening all he met. After his long captivity walking was very +painful to him; besides, he was barefoot, and every stone in the +path hurt the soles of his feet which had grown soft; nevertheless he +contrived to make a by no means contemptible pace when in the distance +he caught sight of a woman’s figure which he could fancy to be Klea. +Many a man, who in his own particular sphere of life can cut a very +respectable figure, becomes a laughing-stock for children when he is +taken out of his own narrow circle, and thrown into the turmoil of +the world with all his peculiarities clinging to him. So it was with +Serapion; in the suburbs the street-boys ran after him mocking at him, +but it was not till three smart hussys, who were resting from their +dance in front of a tavern, laughed loudly as they caught sight of him, +and an insolent soldier drove the point of his lance through his flowing +mane, as if by accident, that he became fully conscious of his wild +appearance, and it struck him forcibly that he could never in this guise +find admission to the king’s palace. + +With prompt determination he turned into the first barber’s stall that +he saw lighted up; at his appearance the barber hastily retreated behind +his counter, but he got his hair and beard cut, and then, for the first +time for many years, he saw his own face in the mirror that the barber +held before him. He nodded, with a melancholy smile, at the face--so +much aged--that looked at him from the bright surface, paid what was +asked, and did not heed the compassionate glance which the barber and +his assistant sent after him. They both thought they had been exercising +their skill on a lunatic, for he had made no answer to all their +questions, and had said nothing but once in a deep and fearfully loud +voice: + +“Chatter to other people--I am in a hurry.” + +In truth his spirit was in no mood for idle gossip; no, it was full of +gnawing anxiety and tender fears, and his heart bled when he reflected +that he had broken his vows, and forsworn the oath he had made to his +dying mother. + +When he reached the palace-gate he begged one of the civic guard to +conduct him to his brother, and as he backed his request with a gift +of money he was led at once to the man whom he sought. Glaucus was +excessively startled to recognize Serapion, but he was so much +engaged that he could only give up a few minutes to his brother, whose +proceedings he considered as both inexplicable and criminal. + +Irene, as the anchorite now learned, had been carried off from the +temple, not by Euergetes but by the Roman, and Klea had quitted the +palace only a few minutes since in a chariot and would return about +midnight and on foot from the second tavern to the temple. And the poor +child was so utterly alone, and her way lay through the desert where she +might be attacked by dissolute soldiery or tomb-robbers or jackals and +hyenas. Her walk was to begin from the second tavern, and that was the +very spot where low rioters were wont to assemble--and his darling was +so young, so fair, and so defenceless! + +He was once more a prey to the same unendurable dread that had come over +him, in his cell, after Klea had left the temple and darkness had closed +in. At that moment he had felt all that a father could feel who from his +prison-window sees his beloved and defenceless child snatched away by +some beast of prey. All the perils that could threaten her in the palace +or in the city, swarming with drunken soldiers, had risen before his +mind with fearful vividness, and his powerful imagination had painted in +glaring colors all the dangers to which his favorite--the daughter of a +noble and respected man--might be exposed. + +He rushed up and down his cell like a wounded tiger, he flung himself +against the walls, and then, with his body hanging far out of the +window, had looked out to see if the girl--who could not possibly have +returned yet--were not come back again. The darker it grew, the more his +anguish rose, and the more hideous were the pictures that stood before +his fancy; and when, presently, a pilgrim in the Pastophorium who had +fallen into convulsions screamed out loud, he was no longer master of +himself--he kicked open the door which, locked on the outside and rotten +from age, had been closed for years, hastily concealed about him some +silver coins he kept in his chest, and let himself down to the ground. + +There he stood, between his cell and the outer wall of the temple, and +now it was that he remembered his vows, and the oath he had sworn, +and his former flight from his retreat. Then he had fled because the +pleasures and joys of life had tempted him forth--then he had sinned +indeed; but now the love, the anxious care that urged him to quit his +prison were the same as had brought him back to it. It was to keep faith +that he now broke faith, and mighty Serapis could read his heart, and +his mother was dead, and while she lived she had always been ready and +willing to forgive. + +He fancied so vividly that he could see her kind old face looking at him +that he nodded at her as if indeed she stood before him. + +Then, he rolled an empty barrel to the foot of the wall, and with some +difficulty mounted on it. The sweat poured down him as he climbed up the +wall built of loose unbaked bricks to the parapet, which was much more +than a man’s height; then, sliding and tumbling, he found himself in the +ditch which ran round it on the outside, scrambled up its outer slope, +and set out at last on his walk to Memphis. + +What he had afterwards learned in the palace concerning Klea had but +little relieved his anxiety on her account; she must have reached the +border of the desert so much sooner than he, and quick walking was so +difficult to him, and hurt the soles of his feet so cruelly! Perhaps +he might be able to procure a staff, but there was just as much bustle +outside the gate of the citadel as by day. He looked round him, feeling +the while in his wallet, which was well filled with silver, and his eye +fell on a row of asses whose drivers were crowding round the soldiers +and servants that streamed out of the great gate. + +He sought out the strongest of the beasts with an experienced eye, flung +a piece of silver to the owner, mounted the ass, which panted under its +load, and promised the driver two drachmm in addition if he would take +him as quickly as possible to the second tavern on the road to the +Serapeum. Thus--he belaboring the sides of the unhappy donkey with +his sturdy bare legs, while the driver, running after him snorting +and shouting, from time to time poked him up from behind with a +stick--Serapion, now going at a short trot, and now at a brisk gallop, +reached his destination only half an hour later than Klea. + +In the tavern all was dark and empty, but the recluse desired no +refreshment. Only his wish that he had a staff revived in his mind, and +he soon contrived to possess himself of one, by pulling a stake out +of the fence that surrounded the innkeeper’s little garden. This was +a somewhat heavy walking-stick, but it eased the recluse’s steps, for +though his hot and aching feet carried him but painfully the strength of +his arms was considerable. + +The quick ride had diverted his mind, had even amused him, for he was +easily pleased, and had recalled to him his youthful travels; but now, +as he walked on alone in the desert, his thoughts reverted to Klea, and +to her only. + +He looked round for her keenly and eagerly as soon as the moon came out +from behind the clouds, called her name from time to time, and thus got +as far as the avenue of sphinxes which connected the Greek and Egyptian +temples; a thumping noise fell upon his ear from the cave of the +Apis-tombs. Perhaps they were at work in there, preparing for the +approaching festival. But why were the soldiers, which were always on +guard here, absent from their posts to-night? Could it be that they had +observed Klea, and carried her off? + +On the farther side of the rows of sphinxes too, which he had now +reached, there was not a man to be seen--not a watchman even though the +white limestone of the tombstones and the yellow desert-sand shone as +clear in the moonlight as if they had some internal light of their own. + +At every instant he grew more and more uneasy, he climbed to the top of +a sand-hill to obtain a wider view, and loudly called Klea’s name. + +There--was he deceived? No--there was a figure visible near one of the +ancient tomb-shrines--a form that seemed wrapped in a long robe, and +when once more he raised his voice in a loud call it came nearer to him +and to the row of sphinxes. In great haste and as fast as he could he +got down again to the roadway, hurried across the smooth pavement, on +both sides of which the long perspective of man-headed lions kept guard, +and painfully clambered up a sand-heap on the opposite side. This was in +truth a painful effort, for the sand crumbled away again and again under +his feet, slipping down hill and carrying him with it, thus compelling +him to find a new hold with hand and foot. At last he was standing on +the outer border of the sphinx-avenue and opposite the very shrine where +he fancied he had seen her whom he sought; but during his clamber it had +become perfectly dark again, for a heavy cloud had once more veiled the +moon. He put both hands to his mouth, and shouted as loud as he could, +“Klea!”--and then again, “Klea!” + +Then, close at his feet he heard a rustle in the sand, and saw a figure +moving before him as though it had risen out of the ground. This could +not be Klea, it was a man--still, perhaps, he might have seen his +darling--but before he had time to address him he felt the shock of +a heavy blow that fell with tremendous force on his back between his +shoulders. The assassin’s sand-bag had missed the exact spot on the nape +of the neck, and Serapion’s strongly-knit backbone would have been able +to resist even a stronger blow. + +The conviction that he was attacked by robbers flashed on his +consciousness as immediately as the sense of pain, and with it the +certainty that he was a lost man if he did not defend himself stoutly. + +Behind him he heard another rustle in the sand. As quickly as he could +he turned round with an exclamation of “Accursed brood of vipers!” and +with his heavy staff he fell upon the figure before him like a smith +beating cold iron, for his eye, now more accustomed to the darkness, +plainly saw it to be a man. Serapion must have hit straight, for his foe +fell at his feet with a hideous roar, rolled over and over in the sand, +groaning and panting, and then with one shrill shriek lay silent and +motionless. + +The recluse, in spite of the dim light, could see all the movements +of the robber he had punished so severely, and he was bending over the +fallen man anxiously and compassionately when he shuddered to feel two +clammy hands touching his feet, and immediately after two sharp pricks +in his right heel, which were so acutely painful that he screamed aloud, +and was obliged to lift up the wounded foot. At the same time, however, +he did not overlook the need to defend himself. Roaring like a wounded +bull, cursing and raging, he laid about him on all sides with his staff, +but hit nothing but the ground. Then as his blows followed each other +more slowly, and at last his wearied arms could no longer wield the +heavy stake, and he found himself compelled to sink on his knees, a +hoarse voice addressed him thus: + +“You have taken my comrade’s life, Roman, and a two-legged serpent has +stung you for it. In a quarter of an hour it will be all over with you, +as it is with that fellow there. Why does a fine gentleman like you go +to keep an appointment in the desert without boots or sandals, and so +make our work so easy? King Euergetes and your friend Eulaeus send you +their greetings. You owe it to them that I leave you even your ready +money; I wish I could only carry away that dead lump there!” + +During this rough speech Serapion was lying on the ground in great +agony; he could only clench his fists, and groan out heavy curses with +his lips which were now getting parched. His sight was as yet undimmed, +and he could distinctly see by the light of the moon, which now shone +forth from a broad cloudless opening in the sky, that the murderer +attempted to carry away his fallen comrade, and then, after raising his +head to listen for a moment sprang off with flying steps away into the +desert. But the recluse now lost consciousness, and when some minutes +later he once more opened his eyes his head was resting softly in the +lap of a young girl, and it was the voice of his beloved Klea that asked +him tenderly. + +“You poor dear father! How came you here in the desert, and into the +hands of these murderers? Do you know me--your Klea? And he who is +looking for your wounds--which are not visible at all--he is the Roman +Publius Scipio. Now first tell us where the dagger hit you that I may +bind it up quickly--I am half a physician, and understand these things +as you know.” + +The recluse tried to turn his head towards Klea’s, but the effort was in +vain, and he said in a low voice: “Prop me up against the slanting wall +of the tomb shrine yonder; and you, child, sit down opposite to me, for +I would fain look at you while I die. Gently, gently, my friend Publius, +for I feel as if all my limbs were made of Phoenician glass, and might +break at the least touch. Thank you, my young friend--you have strong +arms, and you may lift me a little higher yet. So--now I can bear it; +nay, I am well content, I am to be envied--for the moon shows me your +dear face, my child, and I see tears on your cheeks, tears for me, a +surly old man. Aye, it is good, it is very good to die thus.” + +“Oh, father, father!” cried Klea. “You must not speak so. You must live, +you must not die; for see, Publius here asks me to be his wife, and the +Immortals only can know how glad I am to go with him, and Irene is +to stay with us, and be my sister and his. That must make you happy, +father.--But tell us, pray tell us where the wound hurts that the +murderer gave you?” + +“Children, children,” murmured the anchorite, and a happy smile parted +his lips. “The gracious gods are merciful in permitting me to see +that--aye, merciful to me, and to effect that end I would have died +twenty deaths.” + +Klea pressed his now cold hand to her lips as he spoke and again asked, +though hardly able to control her voice for tears: + +“But the wound, father--where is the wound?” “Let be, let be,” replied +Serapion. “It is acrid poison, not a dagger or dart that has undone +my strength. And I can depart in peace, for I am no longer needed for +anything. You, Publius, must now take my place with this child, and will +do it better than I. Klea, the wife of Publius Scipio! I indeed have +dreamt that such a thing might come to pass, and I always knew, and have +said to myself a thousand times that I now say to you my son: This girl +here, this Klea is of a good sort, and worthy only of the noblest. +I give her to you, my son Publius, and now join your hands before me +here--for I have always been like a father to her.” + +“That you have indeed,” sobbed Klea. “And it was no doubt for my sake, +and to protect me, that you quitted your retreat, and have met your +death.” + +“It was fate, it was fate,” stammered the old man. + +“The assassins were in ambush for me,” cried Publius, seizing Serapion’s +hand, “the murderers who fell on you instead of me. Once more, where is +your wound?” + +“My destiny fulfils itself,” replied the recluse. “No locked-up cell, no +physician, no healing herb can avail against the degrees of Fate. I am +dying of a serpent’s sting as it was foretold at my birth; and if I had +not gone out to seek Klea a serpent would have slipped into my cage, and +have ended my life there. Give me your hands, my children, for a deadly +chill is creeping over me, and its cold hand already touches my heart.” + +For a few minutes his voice failed him, and then he said softly: + +“One thing I would fain ask of you. My little possessions, which were +intended for you and Irene, you will now use to bury me. I do not wish +to be burnt, as they did with my father--no, I should wish to be finely +embalmed, and my mummy to be placed with my mother’s. If indeed we may +meet again after death--and I believe we shall--I would rather see her +once more than any one, for she loved me so much--and I feel now as if +I were a child again, and could throw my arms round her neck. In another +life, perhaps, I may not be the child of misfortune that I have been +in this--in another life--now it grips my heart--in another----Children +whatever joys have smiled on me in this, children, it was to you I have +owed it--Klea, to you--and there is my little Irene too----” + +These were the last words of Serapion the recluse; he fell back with a +deep sigh and was dead. Klea and Publius tenderly closed his faithful +eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +The unwonted tumult that had broken the stillness of the night had not +been unobserved in the Greek Serapeum any more than in the Egyptian +temple adjoining the Apis-tombs; but perfect silence once more reigned +in the Necropolis, when at last the great gate of the sanctuary of +Osiris-Apis was thrown open, and a little troop of priests arranged in a +procession came out from it with a vanguard of temple servants, who had +been armed with sacrificial knives and axes. + +Publius and Klea, who were keeping faithful watch by the body of their +dead friend, saw them approaching, and the Roman said: + +“It would have been even less right in such a night as this to let you +proceed to one of the temples with out my escort than to have let our +poor friend remain unwatched.” + +“Once more I assure you,” said Klea eagerly “that we should have thrown +away every chance of fulfilling Serapion’s last wish as he intended, if +during our absence a jackal or a hyena had mutilated his body, and I +am happy to be able at least to prove to my friend, now he is dead, how +grateful I am for all the kindness he showed us while he lived. We ought +to be grateful even to the departed, for how still and blissful has +this hour been while guarding his body. Storm and strife brought us +together--” + +“And here,” interrupted Publius, “we have concluded a happy and +permanent treaty of peace for the rest of our lives.” + +“I accept it willingly,” replied Klea, looking down, “for I am the +vanquished party.” + +“But you have already confessed,” said Publius, “that you were never so +unhappy as when you thought you had asserted your strength against +mine, and I can tell you that you never seemed to me so great and yet so +lovable as when in the midst of your triumph, you gave up the battle for +lost. Such an hour as that, a man experiences but once in his lifetime. +I have a good memory, but if ever I should forget it, and be angry and +passionate--as is sometimes my way--remind me of this spot, or of this +our dead friend, and my hard mood will melt, and I shall remember that +you once were ready to give your life for mine. I will make it easy for +you, for in honor of this man, who sacrificed his life for yours and who +was actually murdered in my stead, I promise to add his name of Serapion +to my own, and I will confirm this vow in Rome. He has behaved to us as +a father, and it behoves me to reverence his memory as though I had been +his son. An obligation was always unendurable to me, and how I shall +ever make full restitution to you for what you have done for me this +night I do not yet know--and yet I should be ready and willing every +day and every hour to accept from you some new gift of love. ‘A debtor,’ +says the proverb, ‘is half a prisoner,’ and so I must entreat you to +deal mercifully with your conquerer.” + +He took her hand, stroked back the hair from her forehead, and touched +it lightly with his lips. Then he went on: + +“Come with me now that we may commit the dead into the hands of these +priests.” + +Klea once more bent over the remains of the anchorite, she hung the +amulet he had given her for her journey round his neck, and then +silently obeyed her lover. When they came up with the little procession +Publius informed the chief priest how he had found Serapion, and +requested him to fetch away the corpse, and to cause it to be prepared +for interment in the costliest manner in the embalming house attached +to their temple. Some of the temple-servants took their places to keep +watch over the body, and after many questions addressed to Publius, and +after examining too the body of the assassin who had been slain, the +priests returned to the temple. + +As soon as the two lovers were left alone again Klea seized the Roman’s +hand, and said passionately: “You have spoken many tender words to me, +and I thank you for them; but I am wont always to be honest, and less +than any one could I deceive you. Whatever your love bestows upon me +will always be a free gift, since you owe me nothing at all and I owe +you infinitely much; for I know now that you have snatched my sister +from the clutches of the mightiest in the land while I, when I heard +that Irene had gone away with you, and that murder threatened your life, +believed implicitly that on the contrary you had lured the child away +to become your sweetheart, and then--then I hated you, and then--I must +confess it\--in my horrible distraction I wished you dead!” + +“And you think that wish can offend me or hurt me?” said Publius. “No, +my child; it only proves to me that you love me as I could wish to be +loved. Such rage under such circumstances is but the dark shadow cast by +love, and is as inseparable from love as from any tangible body. Where +it is absent there is no such thing as real love present--only an airy +vision, a phantom, a mockery. Such an one as Klea does not love nor hate +by halves; but there are mysterious workings in your soul as in that of +every other woman. How did the wish that you could see me dead turn into +the fearful resolve to let yourself be killed in my stead?” + +“I saw the murderers,” answered Klea, “and I was overwhelmed with horror +of them and of their schemes, and of all that had to do with them; I +would not destroy Irene’s happiness, and I loved you even more deeply +than I hated you; and then--but let us not speak of it.” + +“Nay-tell me all.” + +“Then there was a moment--” + +“Well, Klea?” + +“Then--in these last hours, while we have been sitting hand in hand by +the body of poor Serapion, and hardly speaking, I have felt it all over +again--then the midnight hymn of the priests fell upon my heart, and as +I lifted up my soul in prayer at their pious chant I felt as if all my +inmost heart had been frozen and hardened, and was reviving again to new +life and tenderness and warmth. I could not help thinking of all that +is good and right, and I made up my mind to sacrifice myself for you and +for Irene’s happiness far more quickly and easily than I could give it +up afterwards. My father was one of the followers of Zeno--” + +“And you,” interrupted Publius, “thought you were acting in accordance +with the doctrine of the Stoa. I also am familiar with it, but I do not +know the man who is so virtuous and wise that he can live and act, as +that teaching prescribes, in the heat of the struggle of life, or who +is the living representative in flesh and blood of the whole code of +ethics, not sinning against one of its laws and embodying it in himself. +Did you ever hear of the peace of mind, the lofty indifference and +equanimity of the Stoic sages? You look as if the question offended you, +but you did not by any means know how to attain that magnanimity, for +I have seen you fail in it; indeed it is contrary to the very nature of +woman, and--the gods be thanked--you are not a Stoic in woman’s dress, +but a woman--a true woman, as you should be. You have learned nothing +from Zeno and Chrysippus but what any peasant girl might learn from an +honest father, to be true I mean and to love virtue. Be content with +that; I am more than satisfied.” + +“Oh, Publius,” exclaimed the girl, grasping her friend’s hand. “I +understand you, and I know that you are right. A woman must be miserable +so long as she fancies herself strong, and imagines and feels that she +needs no other support than her own firm will and determination, no +other counsel than some wise doctrines which she accepts and adheres to. +Before I could call you mine, and went on my own way, proud of my own +virtue, I was--I cannot bear to think of it--but half a soul, and took +it for a whole; but now--if now fate were to snatch you from me, I +should still know where to seek the support on which I might lean in +need and despair. Not in the Stoa, not in herself can a woman find such +a stay, but in pious dependence on the help of the gods.” + +“I am a man,” interrupted Publius, “and yet I sacrifice to them and +yield ready obedience to their decrees.” + +“But,” cried Klea, “I saw yesterday in the temple of Serapis the meanest +things done by his ministers, and it pained me and disgusted me, and I +lost my hold on the divinity; but the extremest anguish and deepest love +have led me to find it again. I can no longer conceive of the power +that upholds the universe as without love nor of the love that makes men +happy as other than divine. Any one who has once prayed for a being they +love as I prayed for you in the desert can never again forget how to +pray. Such prayers indeed are not in vain. Even if no god can hear them +there is a strengthening virtue in such prayer itself. + +“Now I will go contentedly back to our temple till you fetch me, for I +know that the discreetest, wisest, and kindest Beings will watch over +our love.” + +“You will not accompany me to Apollodorus and Irene?” asked Publius in +surprise. + +“No,” answered Klea firmly. “Rather take me back to the Serapeum. I have +not yet been released from the duties I undertook there, and it will be +more worthy of us both that Asclepiodorus should give you the daughter +of Philotas as your wife than that you should be married to a runaway +serving-maid of Serapis.” + +Publius considered for a moment, and then he said eagerly: + +“Still I would rather you should come with me. You must be dreadfully +tired, but I could take you on my mule to Apollodorus. I care little for +what men say of me when I am sure I am doing right, and I shall know how +to protect you against Euergetes whether you wish to be readmitted to +the temple or accompany me to the sculptor. But do come--it will be hard +on me to part from you again. The victor does not lay aside the crown +when he has just won it in hard fight.” + +“Still I entreat you to take me back to the Serapeum,” said Klea, laying +her hand in that of Publius. + +“Is the way to Memphis too long, are you utterly tired out?” + +“I am much wearied by agitation and terror, by anxiety and happiness, +still I could very well bear the ride; but I beg of you to take me back +to the temple.” + +“What--although you feel strong enough to remain with me, and in spite +of my desire to conduct you at once to Apollodorus and Irene?” asked +Publius astonished, and he withdrew his hand. “The mule is waiting out +there. Lean on my arm. Come and do as I request you.” + +“No, Publius, no. You are my lord and master, and I will always obey you +unresistingly. In one thing only let me have my own way, now and in the +future. As to what becomes a woman I know better than you, it is a thing +that none but a woman can decide.” + +Publius made no reply to these words, but he kissed her, and threw his +arm round her; and so, clasped in each other’s embrace, they reached the +gate of the Serapeum, there to part for a few hours. + +Klea was let into the temple, and as soon as she had learned that little +Philo was much better, she threw herself on her humble bed. + +How lonely her room seemed, how intolerably empty without Irene. In +obedience to a hasty impulse she quitted her own bed, lay herself down +on her sister’s, as if that brought her nearer to the absent girl, and +closed her eyes; but she was too much excited and too much exhausted to +sleep soundly. Swiftly-changing visions broke in again and again on her +sincerely devotional thoughts and her restless half-sleep, painting to +her fancy now wondrously bright images, and now most horrible ones--now +pictures of exquisite happiness, and again others of dismal melancholy. +And all the time she imagined she heard distant music and was being +rocked up and down by unseen hands. + +Still the image of the Roman overpowered all the rest. + +At last a refreshing sleep sealed her eyes more closely, and in her +dream she saw her lover’s house in Rolne, his stately father, his noble +mother--who seemed to her to bear a likeness to her own mother--and the +figures of a number of tall and dignified senators. She felt herself +much embarrassed among all these strangers, who looked enquiringly at +her, and then kindly held out their hands to her. Even the dignified +matron came to meet her with effusion, and clasped her to her breast; +but just as Publius had opened his to her and she flew to his heart, +and she fancied she could feel his lips pressed to hers, the woman, who +called her every morning, knocked at her door and awoke her. + +This time she had been happy in her dream and would willingly have slept +again; but she forced herself to rise from her bed, and before the sun +was quite risen she was standing by the Well of the Sun and, not to +neglect her duty, she filled both the jars for the altar of the god. + +Tired and half-overcome by sleep, she set the golden vessels in their +place, and sat down to rest at the foot of a pillar, while a priest +poured out the water she had brought, as a drink-offering on the ground. + +It was now broad daylight as she looked out into the forecourt through +the many-pillared hall of the temple; the early sunlight played round +the columns, and its slanting rays, at this hour, fell through the tall +doorway far into the great hall which usually lay in twilight gloom. + +The sacred spot looked very solemn in her eyes, sublime, and as it were +reconsecrated, and obeying an irresistible impulse she leaned against a +column, and lifting up her arms, and raising her eyes, she uttered her +thankfulness to the god for his loving kindness, and found but one thing +to pray for, namely that he would preserve Publius and Irene, and all +mankind, from sorrow and anxiety and deception. + +She felt as if her heart had till now been benighted and dark, and had +just disclosed some latent light--as if it had been withered and dry, +and was now blossoming in fresh verdure and brightly-colored flowers. + +To act virtuously is granted even to those who, relying on themselves. +earnestly strive to lead moral, just and honest lives; but the happy +union of virtue and pure inner happiness is solemnized only in the heart +which is able to seek and find a God--be it Serapis or Jehovah. + +At the door of the forecourt Klea was met by Asclepiodorus, who desired +her to follow him. The high-priest had learned that she had secretly +quitted the temple: when she was alone with him in a quiet room he +asked her gravely and severely, why she had broken the laws and left +the sanctuary without his permission. Klea told him, that terror for +her sister had driven her to Memphis, and that she there had heard that +Publics Cornelius Scipio, the Roman who had taken up her father’s cause, +had saved Irene from king Euergetes, and placed her in safety, and that +then she had set out on her way home in the middle of the night. + +The high-priest seemed pleased at her news, and when she proceeded to +inform him that Serapion had forsaken his cell out of anxiety for her, +and had met his death in the desert, he said: + +“I knew all that, my child. May the gods forgive the recluse, and may +Serapis show him mercy in the other world in spite of his broken oath! +His destiny had to be fulfilled. You, child, were born under happier +stars than he, and it is within my power to let you go unpunished. This +I do willingly; and Klea, if my daughter Andromeda grows up, I can only +wish that she may resemble you; this is the highest praise that a father +can bestow on another man’s daughter. As head of this temple I command +you to fill your jars to-day, as usual, till one who is worthy of you +comes to me, and asks you for his wife. I suspect he will not be long to +wait for.” + +“How do you know, father,--” asked Klea, coloring. + +“I can read it in your eyes,” said Asclepiodorus, and he gazed kindly +after her as, at a sign from him, she quitted the room. + +As soon as he was alone he sent for his secretary and said: + +“King Philometor has commanded that his brother Euergetes’ birthday +shall be kept to-day in Memphis. Let all the standards be hoisted, and +the garlands of flowers which will presently arrive from Arsinoe be +fastened up on the pylons; have the animals brought in for sacrifice, +and arrange a procession for the afternoon. All the dwellers in the +temple must be carefully attired. But there is another thing; Komanus +has been here, and has promised us great things in Euergetes’ name, and +declares that he intends to punish his brother Philometor for having +abducted a girl--Irene--attached to our temple. At the same time he +requests me to send Klea the water-bearer, the sister of the girl who +was carried off, to Memphis to be examined--but this may be deferred. +For to-day we will close the temple gates, solemnize the festival among +ourselves, and allow no one to enter our precincts for sacrifice and +prayer till the fate of the sisters is made certain. If the kings +themselves make their appearance, and want to bring their troops in, we +will receive them respectfully as becomes us, but we will not give up +Klea, but consign her to the holy of holies, which even Euergetes +dare not enter without me; for in giving up the girl we sacrifice our +dignity, and with that ourselves.” + +The secretary bowed, and then announced that two of the prophets of +Osiris-Apis desired to speak with Asclepiodorus. + +Klea had met these men in the antechamber as she quitted the +high-priest, and had seen in the hand of one of them the key with which +she had opened the door of the rock-tomb. She had started, and her +conscience urged her to go at once to the priest-smith, and tell him how +ill she had fulfilled her errand. + +When she entered his room Krates was sitting at his work with his feet +wrapped up, and he was rejoiced to see her, for his anxiety for her and +for Irene had disturbed his night’s rest, and towards morning his alarm +had been much increased by a frightful dream. + +Klea, encouraged by the friendly welcome of the old man, who was usually +so surly, confessed that she had neglected to deliver the key to the +smith in the city, that she had used it to open the Apis-tombs, and had +then forgotten to take it out of the new lock. At this confession the +old man broke out violently, he flung his file, and the iron bolt at +which he was working, on to his work-table, exclaiming: + +“And this is the way you executed your commission. It is the first time +I ever trusted a woman, and this is my reward! All this will bring evil +on you and on me, and when it is found out that the sanctuary of Apis +has been desecrated through my fault and yours, they will inflict all +sorts of penance on me, and with very good reason--as for you, they will +punish you with imprisonment and starvation.” + +“And yet, father,” Klea calmly replied, “I feel perfectly guiltless, +and perhaps in the same fearful situation you might not have acted +differently.” + +“You think so--you dare to believe such a thing?” stormed the old man. +“And if the key and perhaps even the lock have been stolen, and if I +have done all that beautiful and elaborate work in vain?” + +“What thief would venture into the sacred tombs?” asked Klea doubtfully. + +“What! are they so unapproachable?” interrupted Krates. “Why, a +miserable creature like you even dared to open them. But only wait--only +wait; if only my feet were not so painful--” + +“Listen to me,” said the girl, going closer up to the indignant smith. +“You are discreet, as you proved to me only yesterday; and if I were to +tell you all I went through and endured last night you would certainly +forgive me, that I know.” + +“If you are not altogether mistaken!” shouted the smith. “Those must be +strange things indeed which could induce me to let such neglect of duty +and such a misdemeanor pass unpunished.” + +And strange things they were indeed which the old man now had to hear, +for when Klea had ended her narrative of all that had occurred during +the past night, not her eyes only but those of the old smith too were +wet with tears. + +“These accursed legs!” he muttered, as his eyes met the enquiring glance +of the young girl, and he wiped the salt dew from his cheeks with the +sleeve of his coat. “Aye-a swelled foot like mine is painful, child, and +a cripple such as I am is not always strong-minded. Old women grow like +men, and old men grow like women. Ah! old age--it is bad to have such +feet as mine, but what is worse is that memory fades as years advance. +I believe now that I left the key myself in the door of the Apis-tombs +last evening, and I will send at once to Asclepiodorus, so that he may +beg the Egyptians up there to forgive me--they are indebted to me for +many small jobs.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +All the black masses of clouds which during the night had darkened +the blue sky and hidden the light of the moon had now completely +disappeared. The north-east wind which rose towards morning had floated +them away, and Zeus, devourer of the clouds, had swallowed them up to +the very last. It was a glorious morning, and as the sun rose in the +heavens, and pierced and burnt up with augmenting haste the pale +mist that hovered over the Nile, and the vapor that hung--a delicate +transparent veil of bluish-grey bombyx-gauze--over the eastern slopes, +the cool shades of night vanished too from the dusky nooks of the narrow +town which lay, mile-wide, along the western bank of the river. And the +intensely brilliant sunlight which now bathed the streets and houses, +the palaces and temples, the gardens and avenues, and the innumerable +vessels in the harbor of Memphis, was associated with a glow of warmth +which was welcome even there in the early morning of a winter’s day. + +Boats’ captains and sailors--were hurrying down to the shore of the Nile +to avail themselves of the northeast breeze to travel southwards against +the current, and sails were being hoisted and anchors heaved, to an +accompaniment of loud singing. The quay was so crowded with ships that +it was difficult to understand how those that were ready could ever +disentangle themselves, and find their way through those remaining +behind; but each somehow found an outlet by which to reach the navigable +stream, and ere long the river was swarming with boats, all sailing +southwards, and giving it the appearance of an endless perspective of +camp tents set afloat. + +Long strings of camels with high packs, of more lightly laden asses, and +of dark-colored slaves, were passing down the road to the harbor; these +last were singing, as yet unhurt by the burden of the day, and the +overseers’ whips were still in their girdles. + +Ox-carts were being laden or coming down to the landing-place with +goods, and the ship’s captains were already beginning to collect round +the different great merchants--of whom the greater number were Greeks, +and only a few dressed in Egyptian costume--in order to offer their +freight for sale, or to hire out their vessels for some new expedition. + +The greatest bustle and noise were at a part of the quay where, under +large tents, the custom-house officials were busily engaged, for most +vessels first cast anchor at Memphis to pay duty or Nile-toll on the +“king’s table.” The market close to the harbor also was a gay scene; +there dates and grain, the skins of beasts, and dried fish were piled +in great heaps, and bleating and bellowing herds of cattle were driven +together to be sold to the highest bidder. + +Soldiers on foot and horseback in gaudy dresses and shining armor, +mingled with the busy crowd, like peacocks and gaudy cocks among the +fussy swarm of hens in a farm yard; lordly courtiers, in holiday dresses +of showy red, blue and yellow stuffs, were borne by slaves in litters +or standing on handsome gilt chariots; garlanded priests walked about +in long white robes, and smartly dressed girls were hurrying down to the +taverns near the harbor to play the flute or to dance. + +The children that were playing about among this busy mob looked +covetously at the baskets piled high with cakes, which the bakers’ boys +were carrying so cleverly on their heads. The dogs innumerable, put up +their noses as the dealers in such dainties passed near them, and many +of them set up longing howls when a citizen’s wife came by with her +slaves, carrying in their baskets freshly killed fowls, and juicy meats +to roast for the festival, among heaps of vegetables and fruits. + +Gardeners’ boys and young girls were bearing garlands of flowers, +festoons and fragrant nosegays, some piled on large trays which they +carried two and two, some on smaller boards or hung on cross poles for +one to carry; at that part of the quay where the king’s barge lay at +anchor numbers of workmen were busily employed in twining festoons of +greenery and flowers round the flag-staffs, and in hanging them with +lanterns. + +Long files of the ministers of the god-representing the five phyla or +orders of the priesthood of the whole country--were marching, in holiday +attire, along the harbor-road in the direction of the palace, and the +jostling crowd respectfully made way for them to pass. The gleams of +festal splendor seemed interwoven with the laborious bustle on the quay +like scraps of gold thread in a dull work-a-day garment. + +Euergetes, brother of the king, was keeping his birthday in Memphis +to-day, and all the city was to take part in the festivities. + +At the first hour after sunrise victims had been sacrificed in the +temple of Ptah, the most ancient, and most vast of the sanctuaries +of the venerable capital of the Pharaohs; the sacred Apis-bull, but +recently introduced into the temple, was hung all over with golden +ornaments; early in the morning Euergetes had paid his devotions to the +sacred beast--which had eaten out of his hand, a favorable augury of +success for his plans; and the building in which the Apis lived, as +well as the stalls of his mother and of the cows kept for him, had been +splendidly decked with flowers. + +The citizens of Memphis were not permitted to pursue their avocations or +ply their trades beyond the hour of noon; then the markets, the booths, +the workshops and schools were to be closed, and on the great square in +front of the temple of Ptah, where the annual fair was held, dramas both +sacred and profane, and shows of all sorts were to be seen, heard and +admired by men, women and children--provided at the expense of the two +kings. + +Two men of Alexandria, one an AEolian of Lesbos, and the other a Hebrew +belonging to the Jewish community, but who was not distinguishable by +dress or accent from his Greek fellow-citizens, greeted each other on +the quay opposite the landing-place for the king’s vessels, some of +which were putting out into the stream, spreading their purple sails and +dipping their prows inlaid with ivory and heavily gilt. + +“In a couple of hours,” said the Jew, “I shall be travelling homewards. +May I offer you a place in my boat, or do you propose remaining here to +assist at the festival and not starting till to-morrow morning? There +are all kinds of spectacles to be seen, and when it is dark a grand +illumination is to take place.” + +“What do I care for their barbarian rubbish?” answered the Lesbian. +“Why, the Egyptian music alone drives me to distraction. My business is +concluded. I had inspected the goods brought from Arabia and India by +way of Berenice and Coptos, and had selected those I needed before the +vessel that brought them had moored in the Mariotic harbor, and other +goods will have reached Alexandria before me. I will not stay an hour +longer than is necessary in this horrible place, which is as dismal as +it is huge. Yesterday I visited the gymnasium and the better class of +baths--wretched, I call them! It is an insult to the fish-market and the +horse-ponds of Alexandria to compare them with them.” + +“And the theatre!” exclaimed the Jew. “The exterior one can bear to look +at--but the acting! Yesterday they gave the ‘Thals’ of Menander, and +I assure you that in Alexandria the woman who dared to impersonate +the bewitching and cold-hearted Hetaira would have been driven off the +stage--they would have pelted her with rotten apples. Close by me there +sat a sturdy, brown Egyptian, a sugar-baker or something of the kind, +who held his sides with laughing, and yet, I dare swear, did not +understand a word of the comedy. But in Memphis it is the fashion +to know Greek, even among the artisans. May I hope to have you as my +guest?” + +“With pleasure, with pleasure!” replied the Lesbian. “I was about to +look out for a boat. Have you done your business to your satisfaction?” + +“Tolerably!” answered the Jew. “I have purchased some corn from Upper +Egypt, and stored it in the granaries here. The whole of that row yonder +were to let for a mere song, and so we get off cheaply when we let the +wheat lie here instead of at Alexandria where granaries are no longer to +be had for money.” + +“That is very clever!” replied the Greek. “There is bustle enough here +in the harbor, but the many empty warehouses and the low rents prove +how Memphis is going down. Formerly this city was the emporium for all +vessels, but now for the most part they only run in to pay the toll +and to take in supplies for their crews. This populous place has a big +stomach, and many trades drive a considerable business here, but most of +those that fail here are still carried on in Alexandria.” + +“It is the sea that is lacking,” interrupted the Jew; “Memphis trades +only with Egypt, and we with the whole world. The merchant who sends +his goods here only load camels, and wretched asses, and flat-bottomed +Nile-boats, while we in our harbors freight fine seagoing vessels. When +the winter-storms are past our house alone sends twenty triremes with +Egyptian wheat to Ostia and to Pontus; and your Indian and Arabian +goods, your imports from the newly opened Ethiopian provinces, take +up less room, but I should like to know how many talents your trade +amounted to in the course of the past year. Well then, farewell till we +meet again on my boat; it is called the Euphrosyne, and lies out there, +exactly opposite the two statues of the old king--who can remember these +stiff barbarian names? In three hours we start. I have a good cook on +board, who is not too particular as to the regulations regarding food by +which my countrymen in Palestine live, and you will find a few new books +and some capital wine from Byblos.” + +“Then we need not dread a head-wind,” laughed the Lesbian. “We meet +again in three hours.” + +The Israelite waved his hand to his travelling companion, and proceeded +at first along the shore under the shade of an alley of sycamores with +their broad unsymmetrical heads of foliage, but presently he turned +aside into a narrow street which led from the quay to the city. He stood +still for a moment opposite the entrance of the corner house, one side +of which lay parallel to the stream while the other--exhibiting the +front door, and a small oil-shop--faced the street; his attention had +been attracted to it by a strange scene; but he had still much to attend +to before starting on his journey, and he soon hurried on again without +noticing a tall man who came towards him, wearing a travelling-hat and a +cloak such as was usually adapted only for making journeys. + +The house at which the Jew had gazed so fixedly was that of Apollodorus, +the sculptor, and the man who was so strangely dressed for a walk +through the city at this hour of the day was the Roman, Publius Scipio. +He seemed to be still more attracted by what was going on in the little +stall by the sculptor’s front door, than even the Israelite had been; he +leaned against the fence of the garden opposite the shop, and stood for +some time gazing and shaking his head at the strange things that were to +be seen within. + +A wooden counter supported by the wall of the house-which was used +by customers to lay their money on and which generally held a few +oil-jars-projected a little way into the street like a window-board, +and on this singular couch sat a distinguished looking youth in a light +blue, sleeveless chiton, turning his back on the stall itself, which was +not much bigger than a good sized travelling-chariot. By his side lay a +“Himation”--[A long square cloak, and an indispensable part of the dress +of the Greeks.]--of fine white woolen stuff with a blue border. His legs +hung out into the street, and his brilliant color stood out in wonderful +contrast to the dark skin of a naked Egyptian boy, who crouched at his +feet with a cage full of doves. + +The young Greek sitting on the window-counter had a golden fillet on his +oiled and perfumed curls, sandals of the finest leather on his feet, and +even in these humble surroundings looked elegant--but even more merry +than elegant--for the whole of his handsome face was radiant with +smiles while he tied two small rosy-grey turtle doves with ribands +of rose-colored bombyx-silk to the graceful basket in which they were +sitting, and then slipped a costly gold bracelet over the heads of the +frightened birds, and attached it to their wings with a white silk tie. + +When he had finished this work he held the basket up, looked at it with +a smile of satisfaction, and he was in the very act of handing it to the +black boy when he caught sight of Publius, who went up to him from the +garden-fence. + +“In the name of all the gods, Lysias,” cried the Roman, without greeting +his friend, “what fool’s trick are you at there again! Are you turned +oil-seller, or have you taken to training pigeons?” + +“I am the one, and I am doing the other,” answered the Corinthian with +a laugh, for he it was to whom the Roman’s speech was addressed. “How do +you like my nest of young doves? It strikes me as uncommonly pretty, and +how well the golden circlet that links their necks becomes the little +creatures!” + +“Here, put out your claws, you black crocodile,” he continued, turning +to his little assistant, “carry the basket carefully into the house, and +repeat what I say, ‘From the love-sick Lysias to the fair Irene’--Only +look, Publius, how the little monster grins at me with his white teeth. +You shall hear that his Greek is far less faultless than his teeth. +Prick up your ears, you little ichneumon--now once more repeat what you +are to say in there--do you see where I am pointing with my finger?--to +the master or to the lady who shall take the doves from you.” + +With much pitiful stammering the boy repeated the Corinthian’s message +to Irene, and as he stood there with his mouth wide open, Lysias, who +was an expert at “ducks and drakes” on the water, neatly tossed into it +a silver drachma. This mouthful was much to the little rascal’s taste, +for after he had taken the coin out of his mouth he stood with wide-open +jaws opposite his liberal master, waiting for another throw; Lysias +however boxed him lightly on his ears, and chucked him under the chin, +saying as he snapped the boy’s teeth together: + +“Now carry up the birds and wait for the answer.” “This offering is to +Irene, then?” said Publius. “We have not met for a long time; where were +you all day yesterday?” + +“It will be far more entertaining to hear what you were about all the +night long. You are dressed as if you had come straight here from Rome. +Euergetes has already sent for you once this morning, and the queen +twice; she is over head and ears in love with you.” + +“Folly! Tell me now what you were doing all yesterday.” + +“Tell me first where you have been.” + +“I had to go some distance and will tell you all about it later, but +not now; and I encountered strange things on my way--aye, I must say +extraordinary things. Before sunrise I found a bed in the inn yonder, +and to my own great surprise I slept so soundly that I awoke only two +hours since.” + +“That is a very meagre report; but I know of old that if you do not +choose to speak no god could drag a syllable from you. As regards myself +I should do myself an injury by being silent, for my heart is like an +overloaded beast of burden and talking will relieve it. Ah! Publius, +my fate to-day is that of the helpless Tantalus, who sees juicy pears +bobbing about under his nose and tempting his hungry stomach, and yet +they never let him catch hold of them, only look-in there dwells Irene, +the pear, the peach, the pomegranate, and my thirsting heart is consumed +with longing for her. You may laugh--but to-day Paris might meet Helen +with impunity, for Eros has shot his whole store of arrows into me. You +cannot see them, but I can feel them, for not one of them has he drawn +out of the wound. And the darling little thing herself is not wholly +untouched by the winged boy’s darts. She has confessed so much to me +myself. It is impossible for me to refuse her any thing, and so I was +fool enough to swear a horrible oath that I would not try to see +her till she was reunited to her tall solemn sister, of whom I am +exceedingly afraid. Yesterday I lurked outside this house just as a +hungry wolf in cold weather sneaks about a temple where lambs are being +sacrificed, only to see her, or at least to hear a word from her lips, +for when she speaks it is like the song of nightingales--but all in +vain. Early this morning I came back to the city and to this spot; and +as hanging about forever was of no use, I bought up the stock of the old +oil-seller, who is asleep there in the corner, and settled myself in his +stall, for here no one can escape me, who enters or quits Apollodorus’ +house--and, besides, I am only forbidden to visit Irene; she herself +allows me to send her greetings, and no one forbids me, not even +Apollodorus, to whom I spoke an hour ago.” + +“And that basket of birds that your dusky errand-boy carried into the +house just now, was such a ‘greeting?” + +“Of course--that is the third already. First I sent her a lovely nosegay +of fresh pomegranate-blossoms, and with it a few verses I hammered out +in the course of the night; then a basket of peaches which she likes +very much, and now the doves. And there lie her answers--the dear, sweet +creature! For my nosegay I got this red riband, for the fruit this peach +with a piece bitten out. Now I am anxious to see what I shall get for my +doves. I bought that little brown scamp in the market, and I shall take +him with me to Corinth as a remembrance of Memphis, if he brings me back +something pretty this time. There, I hear the door, that is he; come +here youngster, what have you brought?” Publius stood with his arms +crossed behind his back, hearing and watching the excited speech and +gestures of his friend who seemed to him, to-day more than ever, one of +those careless darlings of the gods, whose audacious proceedings give +us pleasure because they match with their appearance and manner, and +we feel they can no more help their vagaries than a tree can help +blossoming. As soon as Lysias spied a small packet in the boy’s hand he +did not take it from him but snatched up the child, who was by no means +remarkably small, by the leather belt that fastened up his loin-cloth, +tossed him up as if he were a plaything, and set him down on the table +by his side, exclaiming: + +“I will teach you to fly, my little hippopotamus! Now, show me what you +have got.” + +He hastily took the packet from the hand of the youngster, who looked +quite disconcerted, weighed it in his hand and said, turning to Publius: + +“There is something tolerably heavy in this--what can it contain?” + +“I am quite inexperienced in such matters,” replied the Roman. + +“And I much experienced,” answered Lysias. “It might be, wait-it might +be the clasp of her girdle in here. Feel, it is certainly something +hard.” + +Publius carefully felt the packet that the Corinthian held out to him, +with his fingers, and then said with a smile: + +“I can guess what you have there, and if I am right I shall be much +pleased. Irene, I believe, has returned you the gold bracelet on a +little wooden tablet.” + +“Nonsense!” answered Lysias. “The ornament was prettily wrought and of +some value, and every girl is fond of ornaments.” + +“Your Corinthian friends are, at any rate. But look what the wrapper +contains.” + +“Do you open it,” said the Corinthian. + +Publius first untied a thread, then unfolded a small piece of white +linen, and came at last to an object wrapped in a bit of flimsy, cheap +papyrus. When this last envelope was removed, the bracelet was in fact +discovered, and under it lay a small wax tablet. + +Lysias was by no means pleased with this discovery, and looked +disconcerted and annoyed at the return of his gift; but he soon mastered +his vexation, and said turning to his friend, who was not in the least +maliciously triumphant, but who stood looking thoughtfully at the +ground. + +“Here is something on the little tablet--the sauce no doubt to the +peppered dish she has set before me.” + +“Still, eat it,” interrupted Publius. “It may do you good for the +future.” + +Lysias took the tablet in his hand, and after considering it carefully +on both sides he said: + +“It belongs to the sculptor, for there is his name. And there--why she +has actually spiced the sauce or, if you like it better the bitter dose, +with verses. They are written more clearly than beautifully, still they +are of the learned sort.” + +“Well?” asked the Roman with curiosity, as Lysias read the lines to +himself; the Greek did not look up from the writing but sighed softly, +and rubbing the side of his finely-cut nose with his finger he replied: + +“Very pretty, indeed, for any one to whom they are not directly +addressed. Would you like to hear the distich?” + +“Read it to me, I beg of you.” + +“Well then,” said the Corinthian, and sighing again he read aloud; + + ‘Sweet is the lot of the couple whom love has united; + But gold is a debt, and needs must at once be restored.’ + +“There, that is the dose. But doves are not human creatures, and I +know at once what my answer shall be. Give me the fibula, Publius, that +clasps that cloak in which you look like one of your own messengers. I +will write my answer on the wax.” + +The Roman handed to Lysias the golden circlet armed with a strong pin, +and while he stood holding his cloak together with his hands, as he +was anxious to avoid recognition by the passers-by that frequented this +street, the Corinthian wrote as follows: + + “When doves are courting the lover adorns himself only; + But when a youth loves, he fain would adorn his beloved.” + +“Am I allowed to hear it?” asked Publius, and his friend at once read +him the lines; then he gave the tablet to the boy, with the bracelet +which he hastily wrapped up again, and desired him to take it back +immediately to the fair Irene. But the Roman detained the lad, and +laying his hand on the Greek’s shoulder, he asked him: “And if the young +girl accepts this gift, and after it many more besides--since you are +rich enough to make her presents to her heart’s content--what then, +Lysias?” + +“What then?” repeated the other with more indecision and embarrassment +than was his wont. “Then I wait for Klea’s return home and--Aye! you may +laugh at me, but I have been thinking seriously of marrying this girl, +and taking her with me to Corinth. I am my father’s only son, and for +the last three years he has given me no peace. He is bent on my mother’s +finding me a wife or on my choosing one for myself. And if I took him +the pitch-black sister of this swarthy lout I believe he would be glad. +I never was more madly in love with any girl than with this little +Irene, as true as I am your friend; but I know why you are looking at me +with a frown like Zeus the Thunderer. You know of what consequence our +family is in Corinth, and when I think of that, then to be sure--” + +“Then to be sure?” enquired the Roman in sharp, grave tone. + +“Then I reflect that a water-bearer--the daughter of an outlawed man, in +our house--” + +“And do you consider mine as being any less illustrious in Rome than +your own is in Corinth?” asked Publius sternly. + +“On the contrary, Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica. We are important by +our wealth, you by your power and estates.” + +“So it is--and yet I am about to conduct Irene’s sister Klea as my +lawful wife to my father’s house.” + +“You are going to do that!” cried Lysias springing from his seat, and +flinging himself on the Roman’s breast, though at this moment a party +of Egyptians were passing by in the deserted street. “Then all is well, +then--oh! what a weight is taken off my mind!--then Irene shall be +my wife as sure as I live! Oh Eros and Aphrodite and Father Zeus and +Apollo! how happy I am! I feel as if the biggest of the Pyramids yonder +had fallen off my heart. Now, you rascal, run up and carry to the fair +Irene, the betrothed of her faithful Lysias--mark what I say--carry her +at once this tablet and bracelet. But you will not say it right; I will +write here above my distich: ‘From the faithful Lysias to the fair Irene +his future wife.’ There--and now I think she will not send the thing +back again, good girl that she is! Listen, rascal, if she keeps it you +may swallow cakes to-day out on the Grand Square till you burst--and +yet I have only just paid five gold pieces for you. Will she keep the +bracelet, Publius--yes or no?” + +“She will keep it.” + +A few minutes later the boy came hurrying back, and pulling the Greek +vehemently by his dress, he cried: + +“Come, come with me, into the house.” Lysias with a light and graceful +leap sprang right over the little fellow’s head, tore open the door, and +spread out his arms as he caught sight of Irene, who, though trembling +like a hunted gazelle, flew down the narrow ladder-like stairs to meet +him, and fell on his breast laughing and crying and breathless. + +In an instant their lips met, but after this first kiss she tore herself +from his arms, rushed up the stairs again, and then, from the top step, +shouted joyously: + +“I could not help seeing you this once! now farewell till Klea comes, +then we meet again,” and she vanished into an upper room. + +Lysias turned to his friend like one intoxicated, he threw himself down +on his bench, and said: + +“Now the heavens may fall, nothing can trouble me! Ye immortal gods, how +fair the world is!” + +“Strange boy!” exclaimed the Roman, interrupting his friend’s rapture. +“You can not stay for ever in this dingy stall.” + +“I will not stir from this spot till Klea comes. The boy there shall +fetch me victuals as an old sparrow feeds his young; and if necessary I +will lie here for a week, like the little sardines they preserve in oil +at Alexandria.” + +“I hope you will have only a few hours to wait; but I must go, for I am +planning a rare surprise for King Euergetes on his birthday, and must +go to the palace. The festival is already in full swing. Only listen how +they are shouting and calling down by the harbor; I fancy I can hear the +name of Euergetes.” + +“Present my compliments to the fat monster! May we meet again +soon--brother-in-law!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +King Euergetes was pacing restlessly up and down the lofty room which +his brother had furnished with particular magnificence to be his +reception-room. Hardly had the sun risen on the morning of his birthday +when he had betaken himself to the temple of Ptah with a numerous +suite--before his brother Philometor could set out--in order to +sacrifice there, to win the good graces of the high-priest of the +sanctuary, and to question of the oracle of Apis. All had fallen out +well, for the sacred bull had eaten out of his hand; and yet he would +have been more glad--though it should have disdained the cake he offered +it, if only Eulaeus had brought him the news that the plot against the +Roman’s life had been successful. + +Gift after gift, addresses of congratulation from every district of the +country, priestly decrees drawn up in his honor and engraved on tablets +of hard stone, lay on every table or leaned against the walls of the +vast ball which the guests had just quitted. Only Hierax, the king’s +friend, remained with him, supporting himself, while he waited for some +sign from his sovereign, on a high throne made of gold and ivory and +richly decorated with gems, which had been sent to the king by the +Jewish community of Alexandria. + +The great commander knew his master well and knew too that it was not +prudent to address him when he looked as he did now. But Euergetes +himself was aware of the need for speech, and he began, without pausing +in his walk or looking at his dignified friend: + +“Even the Philobasilistes have proved corrupt; my soldiers in the +citadel are more numerous and are better men too than those that have +remained faithful to Philometor, and there ought to be nothing more for +me to do but to stir up a brief clatter of swords on shields, to spring +upon the throne, and to have myself proclaimed king; but I will never go +into the field with the strongest division of the enemy in my rear. +My brother’s head is on my sister’s shoulders, and so long as I am not +certain of her--” + +A chamberlain rushed into the room as the king spoke, and interrupted +him by shouting out: + +“Queen Cleopatra.” + +A smile of triumph flashed across the features of the young giant; he +flung himself with an air of indifference on to a purple divan, and +desired that a magnificent lyre made of ivory, and presented to him by +his sister, should be brought to him; on it was carved with wonderful +skill and delicacy a representation of the first marriage, that of +Cadmus with Harmonia, at which all the gods had attended as guests. + +Euergetes grasped the chords with wonderful vigor and mastery, and began +to play a wedding march, in which eager triumph alternated with tender +whisperings of love and longing. + +The chamberlain, whose duty it was to introduce the queen to her +brother’s presence, wished to interrupt this performance of his +sovereign’s; but Cleopatra held him back, and stood listening at the +door with her children till Euergetes had brought the air to a rapid +conclusion with a petulant sweep of the strings, and a loud and +ear-piercing discord; then he flung his lute on the couch and rose with +well-feigned surprise, going forward to meet the queen as if, absorbed +in playing, he had not heard her approach. + +He greeted his sister affectionately, holding out both his hands to her, +and spoke to the children--who were not afraid of him, for he knew how +to play madcap games with them like a great frolicsome boy--welcoming +them as tenderly as if he were their own father. + +He could not weary of thanking Cleopatra for her thoughtful present--so +appropriate to him, who like Cadmus longed to boast of having mastered +Harmonia, and finally--she not having found a word to say--he took her +by the hand to exhibit to her the presents sent him by her husband and +from the provinces. But Cleopatra seemed to take little pleasure in all +these things, and said: + +“Yes, everything is admirable, just as it has always been every year for +the last twenty years; but I did not come here to see but to listen.” + +Her brother was radiant with satisfaction; she on the contrary was +pale and grave, and, could only now and then compel herself to a forced +smile. + +“I fancied,” said Euergetes, “that your desire to wish me joy was +the principal thing that had brought you here, and, indeed, my vanity +requires me to believe it. Philometor was with me quite early, and +fulfilled that duty with touching affection. When will he go into the +banqueting-hall?” + +“In half an hour; and till then tell me, I entreat you, what yesterday +you--” + +“The best events are those that are long in preparing,” interrupted +her brother. “May I ask you to let the children, with their attendants, +retire for a few minutes into the inner rooms?” + +“At once!” cried Cleopatra eagerly, and she pushed her eldest boy, who +clamorously insisted on remaining with his uncle, violently out of the +door without giving his attendant time to quiet him or take him in her +arms. + +While she was endeavoring, with angry scolding and cross words, to +hasten the children’s departure, Eulaeus came into the room. Euergetes, +as soon as he saw him, set every limb with rigid resolve, and drew +breath so deeply that his broad chest heaved high, and a strong +respiration parted his lips as he went forward to meet the eunuch, +slowly but with an enquiring look. + +Eulaeus cast a significant glance at Hierax and Cleopatra, went quite +close up to the king, whispered a few words into his ear, and answered +his brief questions in a low voice. + +“It is well,” said Euergetes at last, and with a decisive gesture of his +hand he dismissed Eulaeus and his friend from the room. + +Then he stood, as pale as death, his teeth set in his under-lip, and +gazing blankly at the ground. + +He had his will, Publius Cornelius Scipio lived no more; his ambition +might reach without hindrance the utmost limits of his desires, and yet +he could not rejoice; he could not escape from a deep horror of himself, +and he struck his broad forehead with his clenched fists. He was face to +face with his first dastardly murder. + +“And what news does Eulaeus bring?” asked Cleopatra in anxious +excitement, for she had never before seen her brother like this; but he +did not hear these words, and it was not till she had repeated them with +more insistence that he collected himself, stared at her from head to +foot with a fixed, gloomy expression, and then, letting his hand fall +on her shoulder so heavily that her knees bent under her and she gave a +little cry, asked her in a low but meaning tone: + +“Are you strong enough to bear to hear great news?” + +“Speak,” she said in a low voice, and her eyes were fixed on his lips +while she pressed her hand on her heart. Her anxiety to hear fettered +her to him, as with a tangible tie, and he, as if he must burst it by +the force of his utterance, said with awful solemnity, in his deepest +tones and emphasizing every syllable: + +“Publius Cornelius Scipio Nasica is dead.” + +At these words Cleopatra’s pale cheeks were suddenly dyed with a crimson +glow, and clenching her little hands she struck them together, and +exclaimed with flashing eyes: + +“I hoped so!” + +Euergetes withdrew a step from his sister, and said: “You were right. +It is not only among the race of gods that the most fearful of all are +women!” + +“What have you to say?” retorted Cleopatra. “And am I to believe that a +toothache has kept the Roman away from the banquet yesterday, and again +from coming to see me to-day? Am I to repeat, after you, that he died of +it? Now, speak out, for it rejoices my heart to hear it; where and how +did the insolent hypocrite meet his end?” + +“A serpent stung him,” replied Euergetes, turning from his sister. “It +was in the desert, not far from the Apis-tombs.” + +“He had an assignation in the Necropolis at midnight--it would seem to +have begun more pleasantly than it ended?” + +Euergetes nodded assent to the question, and added gravely: + +“His fate overtook him--but I cannot see anything very pleasing in the +matter.” + +“No?” asked the queen. “And do you think that I do not know the asp that +ended that life in its prime? Do you think that I do not know, who set +the poisoned serpent on the Roman? You are the assassin, and Eulaeus and +his accomplices have helped you! Only yesterday I would have given my +heart’s blood for Publius, and would rather have carried you to the +grave than him; but to-day, now that I know the game that the wretch has +been playing with me, I would even have taken on myself the bloody deed +which, as it is, stains your hands. Not even a god should treat your +sister with such contempt--should insult her as he has done--and +go unpunished! Another has already met the same fate, as you +know--Eustorgos, Hipparchon of Bithynia, who, while he seemed to be +dying of love for me, was courting Kallistrata my lady in waiting; +and the wild beasts and serpents exercised their dark arts on him too. +Eulaeus’ intelligence has fallen on you, who are powerful, like a +cold hand on your heart; in me, the weak woman, it rouses unspeakable +delight. I gave him the best of all a woman has to bestow, and he dared +to trample it in the dust; and had I no right to require of him that he +should pour out the best that he had, which was his life, in the same +way as he had dared to serve mine, which is my love? I have a right to +rejoice at his death. Aye! the heavy lids now close those bright eyes +which could be falser than the stern lips that were so apt to praise +truth. The faithless heart is forever still which could scorn the love +of a queen--and for what? For whom? Oh, ye pitiful gods!” + +With these words the queen sobbed aloud, hastily lifting her hands +to cover her eyes, and ran to the door by which she had entered her +brother’s rooms. + +But Euergetes stood in her way, and said sternly and positively: + +“You are to stay here till I return. Collect yourself, for at the next +event which this momentous day will bring forth it will be my turn to +laugh while your blood shall run cold.” And with a few swift steps he +left the hall. + +Cleopatra buried her face in the soft cushions of the couch, and wept +without ceasing, till she was presently startled by loud cries and the +clatter of arms. Her quick wit told her what was happening. In frantic +haste she flew to the door but it was locked; no shaking, no screaming, +no thumping seemed to reach the ears of the guard whom she heard +monotonously walking up and down outside her prison. + +And now the tumult and clang of arms grew louder and louder, and the +rattle of drums and blare of trumpets began to mingle with the sound. +She rushed to the window in mortal fear, and looked down into the +palace-yard; at that same instant the door of the great banqueting-hall +was flung open, and a flying crowd streamed out in distracted +confusion--then another, and a third--all troops in King Philometor’s +uniform. She ran to the door of the room into which she had thrust her +children; that too was locked. In her desperation she once more sprang +to the window, shouted to the flying Macedonians to halt and make a +stand--threatening and entreating; but no one heard her, and their +number constantly increased, till at length she saw her husband standing +on the threshold of the great hall with a gaping wound on his forehead, +and defending himself bravely and stoutly with buckler and sword against +the body-guard of his own brother, who were pressing him sorely. In +agonized excitement she shouted encouraging words to him, and he seemed +to hear her, for with a strong sweep of his shield he struck his nearest +antagonist to the earth, sprang with a mighty leap into the midst of his +flying adherents, and vanished with them through the passage which led +to the palace-stables. + +The queen sank fainting on her knees by the window, and, through the +gathering shades of her swoon her dulled senses still were conscious +of the trampling of horses, of a shrill trumpet-blast, and at last of a +swelling and echoing shout of triumph with cries of, “Hail: hail to the +son of the Sun--Hail to the uniter of the two kingdoms; Hail to the King +of Upper and Lower Egypt, to Euergetes the god.” + +But at the last words she recovered consciousness entirely and started +up. She looked down into the court again, and there saw her brother +borne along on her husband’s throne-litter by dignitaries and nobles. +Side by side with the traitor’s body-guard marched her own and +Philometor’s Philobasilistes and Diadoches. + +The magnificent train went out of the great court of the palace, and +then--as she heard the chanting of priests--she realized that she had +lost her crown, and knew whither her faithless brother was proceeding. + +She ground her teeth as her fancy painted all that was now about to +happen. Euergetes was being borne to the temple of Ptah, and proclaimed +by its astonished chief-priests, as King of Upper and Lower Egypt, and +successor to Philometor. Four pigeons would be let fly in his presence +to announce to the four quarters of the heavens that a new sovereign +had mounted the throne of his fathers, and amid prayer and sacrifice a +golden sickle would be presented to him with which, according to ancient +custom, he would cut an ear of corn. + +Betrayed by her brother, abandoned by her husband, parted from her +children, scorned by the man she had loved, dethroned and powerless, +too weak and too utterly crushed to dream of revenge--she spent two +interminably long hours in the keenest anguish of mind, shut up in her +prison which was overloaded with splendor and with gifts. If poison had +been within her reach, in that hour she would unhesitatingly have put +an end to her ruined life. Now she walked restlessly up and down, asking +herself what her fate would be, and now she flung herself on the couch +and gave herself up to dull despair. + +There lay the lyre she had given to her brother; her eye fell on the +relievo of the marriage of Cadmus and Harmonia, and on the figure of a +woman who was offering a jewel to the bride. The bearer of the gift +was the goddess of love, and the ornament she gave--so ran the +legend--brought misfortune on those who inherited it. All the darkest +hours of her life revived in her memory, and the blackest of them all +had come upon her as the outcome of Aphrodite’s gifts. She thought with +a shudder of the murdered Roman, and remembered the moment when Eulaeus +had told her that her Bithynian lover had been killed by wild beasts. +She rushed from one door to another--the victim of the avenging +Eumenides--shrieked from the window for rescue and help, and in that one +hour lived through a whole year of agonies and terrors. + +At last--at last, the door of the room was opened, and Euergetes came +towards her, clad in the purple, with the crown of the two countries on +his grand head, radiant with triumph and delight. + +“All hail to you, sister!” he exclaimed in a cheerful tone, and lifting +the heavy crown from his curling hair. “You ought to be proud to-day, +for your own brother has risen to high estate, and is now King of Upper +and Lower Egypt.” + +Cleopatra turned from him, but he followed her and tried to take her +hand. She however snatched it away, exclaiming: + +“Fill up the measure of your deeds, and insult the woman whom you have +robbed and made a widow. It was with a prophecy on your lips that you +went forth just now to perpetrate your greatest crime; but it falls on +your own head, for you laugh over our misfortune--and it cannot regard +me, for my blood does not run cold; I am not overwhelmed nor hopeless, +and I shall--” + +“You,” interrupted Euergetes, at first with a loud voice, which +presently became as gentle as though he were revealing to her the +prospect of a future replete with enjoyment, “You shall retire to your +roof-tent with your children, and there you shall be read to as much as +you like, eat as many dainties as you can, wear as many splendid dresses +as you can desire, receive my visits and gossip with me as often as +my society may seem agreeable to you--as yours is to me now and at all +times. Besides all this you may display your sparkling wit before as +many Greek and Jewish men of letters or learning as you can command, +till each and all are dazzled to blindness. Perhaps even before that you +may win back your freedom, and with it a full treasury, a stable full +of noble horses, and a magnificent residence in the royal palace on +the Bruchion in gay Alexandria. It depends only on how soon our brother +Philometor--who fought like a lion this morning--perceives that he is +more fit to be a commander of horse, a lute-player, an attentive host +of word-splitting guests--than the ruler of a kingdom. Now, is it +not worthy of note to those who, like you and me, sister, love to +investigate the phenomena of our spiritual life, that this man--who in +peace is as yielding as wax, as week as a reed--is as tough and as keen +in battle as a finely tempered sword? We hacked bravely at each other’s +shields, and I owe this slash here on my shoulder to him. If Hierax--who +is in pursuit of him with his horsemen--is lucky and catches him in +time, he will no doubt give up the crown of his own free will.” + +“Then he is not yet in your power, and he had time to mount a horse!” + cried Cleopatra, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction; “then all is +not yet lost for us. If Philometor can but reach Rome, and lay our case +before the Senate--” + +“Then he might certainly have some prospect of help from the Republic, +for Rome does not love to see a strong king on the throne of Egypt,” + said Euergetes. “But you have lost your mainstay by the Tiber, and I +am about to make all the Scipios and the whole gens Cornelia my stanch +allies, for I mean to have the deceased Roman burnt with the finest +cedar-wood and Arabian spices; sacrifices shall be slaughtered at the +same time as if he had been a reigning king, and his ashes shall be sent +to Ostia and Rome in the costliest specimen of Vasa murrina that graces +my treasure-house, and on a ship specially fitted, and escorted by the +noblest of my friends. The road to the rampart of a hostile city lies +over corpses, and I, as general and king--” + +Euergetes suddenly broke off in his sentence, for a loud noise and +vehement talking were heard outside the door. Cleopatra too had not +failed to observe it, and listened with alert attention; for on such a +day and in these apartments every dialogue, every noise in the king’s +antechamber might be of grave purport. + +Euergetes did not deceive himself in this matter any more than his +sister, and he went towards the door holding the sacrificial sickle, +which formed part of his regalia, in his right hand. But he had not +crossed the room when Eulaeus rushed in, as pale as death, and calling +out to his sovereign: + +“The murderers have betrayed us; Publius Scipio is alive, and insists on +being admitted to speak with you.” + +The king’s armed hand fell by his side, and for a moment he gazed +blankly into vacancy, but the next instant he had recovered himself, and +roared in a voice which filled the room like rolling thunder: + +“Who dares to hinder the entrance of my friend Publius Cornelius Scipio? +And are you still here, Eulaeus--you scoundrel and you villain! The +first case that I, as King of Upper and Lower Egypt, shall open +for trial will be that which this man--who is your foe and my +friend--proposes to bring against you. Welcome! most welcome on my +birthday, my noble friend!” + +The last words were addressed to Publius, who now entered the room with +stately dignity, and clad in the ample folds of the white toga worn by +Romans of high birth. He held a sealed roll or despatch in his right +hand, and, while he bowed respectfully to Cleopatra, he seemed entirely +to overlook the hands King Euergetes held out in welcome. After his +first greeting had been disdained by the Roman, Euergetes would not have +offered him a second if his life had depended on it. He crossed his arms +with royal dignity, and said: + +“I am grieved to receive your good wishes the last of all that have been +offered me on this happy day.” + +“Then you must have changed your mind,” replied Publius, drawing up his +slight figure, which was taller than the king’s, “You have no lack of +docile instruments, and last night you were fully determined to receive +my first congratulations in the realm of shades.” + +“My sister,” answered Euergetes, shrugging his shoulders, “was only +yesterday singing the praises of your uncultured plainness of speech; +but to-day it is your pleasure to speak in riddles like an Egyptian +oracle.” + +“They cannot, however, be difficult to solve by you and your minions,” + replied Publius coldly, as he pointed to Eulaeus. “The serpents which +you command have powerful poisons and sharp fangs at their disposal; +this time, however, they mistook their victim, and have sent a poor +recluse of Serapis to Hades instead of one of their king’s guests.” + +“Your enigma is harder than ever,” cried the king. “My intelligence at +least is unequal to solve it, and I must request you to speak in less +dark language or else to explain your meaning.” + +“Later, I will,” said Publius emphatically, “but these things concern +myself alone, and I stand here now commissioned by the State of Rome +which I serve. To-day Juventius Thalna will arrive here as ambassador +from the Republic, and this document from the Senate accredits me as its +representative until his arrival.” + +Euergetes took the sealed roll which Publius offered to him. While he +tore it open, and hastily looked through its contents, the door was +again thrown open and Hierax, the king’s trusted friend, appeared on the +threshold with a flushed face and hair in disorder. + +“We have him!” he cried before he came in. “He fell from his horse near +Heliopolis.” + +“Philometor?” screamed Cleopatra, flinging herself upon Hierax. “He fell +from his horse--you have murdered him?” + +The tone in which the words were said, so full of grief and horror that +the general said compassionately: + +“Calm yourself, noble lady; your husband’s wound in the forehead is not +dangerous. The physicians in the great hall of the temple of the Sun +bound it up, and allowed me to bring him hither on a litter.” + +Without hearing Hierax to the end Cleopatra flew towards the door, but +Euergetes barred her way and gave his orders with that decision which +characterized him, and which forbade all contradiction: + +“You will remain here till I myself conduct you to him. I wish to have +you both near me.” + +“So that you may force us by every torment to resign the throne!” cried +Cleopatra. “You are in luck to-day, and we are your prisoners.” + +“You are free, noble queen,” said the Roman to the poor woman, who was +trembling in every limb. “And on the strength of my plenipotentiary +powers I here demand the liberty of King Philometor, in the name of the +Senate of Rome.” + +At these words the blood mounted to King Euergetes’ face and eyes, and, +hardly master of himself, he stammered out rather than said: + +“Popilius Laenas drew a circle round my uncle Antiochus, and threatened +him with the enmity of Rome if he dared to overstep it. You might excel +the example set you by your bold countryman--whose family indeed was far +less illustrious than yours--but I--I--” + +“You are at liberty to oppose the will of Rome,” interrupted Publius +with dry formality, “but, if you venture on it, Rome, by me, will +withdraw her friendship. I stand here in the name of the Senate, whose +purpose it is to uphold the treaty which snatched this country from the +Syrians, and by which you and your brother pledged yourselves to divide +the realm of Egypt between you. It is not in my power to alter what has +happened here; but it is incumbent on me so to act as to enable Rome +to distribute to each of you that which is your due, according to the +treaty ratified by the Republic. + +“In all questions which bear upon that compact Rome alone must decide, +and it is my duty to take care that the plaintiff is not prevented from +appearing alive and free before his protectors. So, in the name of the +Senate, King Euergetes, I require you to permit King Philometor +your brother, and Queen Cleopatra your sister, to proceed hence, +whithersoever they will.” Euergetes, breathing hard in impotent fury, +alternately doubling his fists, and extending his quivering fingers, +stood opposite the Roman who looked enquiringly in his face with cool +composure; for a short space both were silent. Then Euergetes, pushing +his hands through his hair, shook his head violently from side to side, +and exclaimed: + +“Thank the Senate from me, and say that I know what we owe to it, and +admire the wisdom which prefers to see Egypt divided rather than united +in one strong hand--Philometor is free, and you also Cleopatra.” + +For a moment he was again silent, then he laughed loudly, and cried to +the queen: + +“As for you sister--your tender heart will of course bear you on the +wings of love to the side of your wounded husband.” + +Cleopatra’s pale cheeks had flushed scarlet at the Roman’s speech; she +vouchsafed no answer to her brother’s ironical address, but advanced +proudly to the door. As she passed Publius she said with a farewell wave +of her pretty hand. + +“We are much indebted to the Senate.” + +Publius bowed low, and she, turning away from him, quitted the room. + +“You have forgotten your fan, and your children!” the king called +after her; but Cleopatra did not hear his words, for, once outside her +brother’s apartment, all her forced and assumed composure flew to the +winds; she clasped her hands on her temples, and rushed down the broad +stairs of the palace as if she were pursued by fiends. + +When the sound of her steps had died away, Euergetes turned to the Roman +and said: + +“Now, as you have fulfilled what you deem to be your duty, I beg of you +to explain the meaning of your dark speeches just now, for they were +addressed to Euergetes the man, and not the king. If I understood you +rightly you meant to imply that your life had been attempted, and that +one of those extraordinary old men devoted to Serapis had been murdered +instead of you.” + +“By your orders and those of your accomplice Eulaeus,” answered Publius +coolly. + +“Eulaeus, come here!” thundered the king to the trembling courtier, with +a fearful and threatening glare in his eyes. “Have you hired murderers +to kill my friend--this noble guest of our royal house--because he +threatened to bring your crimes to light?” + +“Mercy!” whimpered Eulaeus sinking on his knees before the king. + +“He confesses his crime!” cried Euergetes; he laid his hand on the +girdle of his weeping subordinate, and commanded Hierax to hand him over +without delay to the watch, and to have him hanged before all beholders +by the great gate of the citadel. Eulaeus tried to pray for mercy and +to speak, but the powerful officer, who hated the contemptible wretch, +dragged him up, and out of the room. + +“You were quite right to lay your complaint before me,” said Euergetes +while Eulaeus cries and howls were still audible on the stairs. “And you +see that I know how to punish those who dare to offend a guest.” + +“He has only met with the portion he has deserved for years,” replied +Publius. “But now that we stand face to face, man to man, I must close +my account with you too. In your service and by your orders Eulaeus set +two assassins to lie in wait for me--” + +“Publius Cornelius Scipio!” cried the king, interrupting his enemy in an +ominous tone; but the Roman went on, calmly and quietly: + +“I am saying nothing that I cannot support by witnesses; and I have +truly set forth, in two letters, that king Euergetes during the past +night has attempted the life of an ambassador from Rome. One of these +despatches is addressed to my father, the other to Popilius Lamas, and +both are already on their way to Rome. I have given instructions that +they are to be opened if, in the course of three months reckoned from +the present date, I have not demanded them back. You see you must needs +make it convenient to protect my life, and to carry out whatever I may +require of you. If you obey my will in everything I may demand, all that +has happened this night shall remain a secret between you and me and +a third person, for whose silence I will be answerable; this I promise +you, and I never broke my word.” + +“Speak,” said the king flinging himself on the couch, and plucking the +feathers from the fan Cleopatra had forgotten, while Publius went on +speaking. + +“First I demand a free pardon for Philotas of Syracuse, ‘relative of +the king,’ and president of the body of the Chrematistes, his immediate +release, with his wife, from their forced labor, and their return from +the mines.” + +“They both are dead,” said Euergetes, “my brother can vouch for it.” + +“Then I require you to have it declared by special decree that Philotas +was condemned unjustly, and that he is reinstated in all the dignities +he was deprived of. I farther demand that you permit me and my friend +Lysias of Corinth, as well as Apollodorus the sculptor, to quit Egypt +without let or hindrance, and with us Klea and Irene, the daughters of +Philotas, who serve as water-bearers in the temple of Serapis.--Do you +hesitate as to your reply?” + +“No,” answered the king, and he tossed up his hand. “For this once I +have lost the game.” + +“The daughters of Philotas, Klea and Irene,” continued Publius with +imperturbable coolness, “are to have the confiscated estates of their +parents restored to them.” + +“Then your sweetheart’s beauty does not satisfy you!” interposed +Euergetes satirically. + +“It amply satisfies me. My last demand is that half of this wealth shall +be assigned to the temple of Serapis, so that the god may give up his +serving-maidens willingly, and without raising any objections. The other +half shall be handed over to Dicearchus, my agent in Alexandria, because +it is my will that Klea and Irene shall not enter my own house or that +of Lysias in Corinth as wives, without the dowry that beseems their +rank. Now, within one hour, I must have both the decree and the act +of restitution in my hands, for as soon as Juventius Thalna arrives +here--and I expect him, as I told you this very day--we propose to leave +Memphis, and to take ship at Alexandria.” + +“A strange conjuncture!” cried Euergetes. “You deprive me alike of +my revenge and my love, and yet I see myself compelled to wish you a +pleasant journey. I must offer a sacrifice to Poseidon, to the Cyprian +goddess, and to the Dioscurides that they may vouchsafe your ship a +favorable voyage, although it will carry the man who in the future, can +do us more injury at Rome by his bitter hostility, than any other.” + +“I shall always take the part of which ever of you has justice on his +side.” + +Publius quitted the room with a proud wave of his hand, and Euergetes, +as soon as the door had closed behind the Roman, sprang from his couch, +shook his clenched fist in angry threat, and cried: + +You, you obstinate fellow and your haughty patrician clan may do me +mischief enough by the Tiber; and yet perhaps I may win the game in +spite of you! + +“You cross my path in the name of the Roman Senate. If Philometor waits +in the antechambers of consuls and senators we certainly may chance +to meet there, but I shall also try my luck with the people and the +tribunes. + +“It is very strange! This head of mine hits upon more good ideas in an +hour than a cool fellow like that has in a year, and yet I am beaten by +him--and if I am honest I can not but confess that it was not his luck +alone, but his shrewdness that gained the victory. He may be off as +soon as he likes with his proud Hera--I can find a dozen Aphrodites in +Alexandria in her place! + +“I resemble Hellas and he Rome, such as they are at present. We flutter +in the sunshine, and seize on all that satisfies our intellect or +gratifies our senses: they gaze at the earth, but walk on with a firm +step to seek power and profit. And thus they get ahead of us, and yet--I +would not change with them.” + + + ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: + + A subdued tone generally provokes an equally subdued answer + A mere nothing in one man’s life, to another may be great + A debtor, says the proverb, is half a prisoner + Air of a professional guide + And what is great--and what is small + Before you serve me up so bitter a meal (the truth) + Behold, the puny Child of Man + Blind tenderness which knows no reason + By nature she is not and by circumstances is compelled to be + Deceit is deceit + Desire to seek and find a power outside us + Evolution and annihilation + Flattery is a key to the heart + Hold pleasure to be the highest good + If you want to catch mice you must waste bacon + Inquisitive eyes are intrusive company + Man is the measure of all things + Man works with all his might for no one but himself + Many a one would rather be feared than remain unheeded + Museum of Alexandria and the Library + Not yet fairly come to the end of yesterday + Nothing permanent but change + Nothing so certain as that nothing is certain + Old women grow like men, and old men grow like women + One hand washes the other + Prefer deeds to words + Priests that they should instruct the people to be obedient + The altar where truth is mocked at + They get ahead of us, and yet--I would not change with them + Virtues are punished in this world + What are we all but puny children? + Who can be freer than he who needs nothing + Who only puts on his armor when he is threatened + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sisters, Complete, by Georg Ebers + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SISTERS, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 5466-0.txt or 5466-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/6/5466/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. |