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