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.



ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

If you want to catch mice you must waste bacon
Man works with all his might for no one but himself
Nothing permanent but change
Nothing so certain as that nothing is certain
Priests that they should instruct the people to be obedient




THE SISTERS

By Georg Ebers

Volume 4.




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.