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 it 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."




ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

And what is great--and what is small
Behold, the puny Child of Man
Evolution and annihilation
Flattery is a key to the heart
Hold pleasure to be the highest good
Man is the measure of all things
Museum of Alexandria and the Library
One hand washes the other
Prefer deeds to words
What are we all but puny children?






THE SISTERS

By Georg Ebers

Volume 3.



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