Lysias was one of those men from whose lips nothing ever sounds as if it
were meant seriously. His statement that he regarded a serving girl from
the temple of Serapis as fit to personate Hebe, was spoken as naturally
and simply as if he were telling a tale for children; but his words
produced an effect on his hearers like the sound of waters rushing into
a leaky ship.
Publius had turned perfectly white, and it was not till his friend
had uttered the name of Irene that he in some degree recovered his
composure; Philometor had struck his cup on the table, and called out in
much excitement:
“A water-bearer of Serapis to play Hebe in a gay festal performance! Do
you conceive it possible, Cleopatra?”
“Impossible--it is absolutely out of the question,” replied the
queen, decidedly. Euergetes, who also had opened his eyes wide at the
Corinthian’s proposition, sat for a long time gazing into his cup
in silence; while his brother and sister continued to express
their surprise and disapprobation and to speak of the respect and
consideration which even kings must pay to the priests and servants of
Serapis.
At length, once more lifting his wreath and crown, he raised his curls
with both hands, and said, quite calmly and decisively;
“We must have a Hebe, and must take her where we find her. If you
hesitate to allow the girl to be fetched it shall be done by my orders.
The priests of Serapis are for the most part Greeks, and the high-priest
is a Hellene. He will not trouble himself much about a half-grown-up
girl if he can thereby oblige you or me. He knows as well as the rest of
us that one hand washes the other! The only question now is--for I would
rather avoid all woman’s outcries--whether the girl will come willingly
or unwillingly if we send for her. What do you think, Lysias?”
“I believe she would sooner get out of prison to-day than to-morrow,”
replied Lysias. “Irene is a lighthearted creature, and laughs as clearly
and merrily as a child at play--and besides that they starve her in her
cage.”
“Then I will have her fetched to-morrow!” said Euergetes.
“But,” interrupted Cleopatra, “Asclepiodorus must obey us and not you;
and we, my husband and I--”
“You cannot spoil sport with the priests,” laughed Euergetes. “If they
were Egyptians, then indeed! They are not to be taken in their nests
without getting pecked; but here, as I have said, we have to deal with
Greeks. What have you to fear from them? For aught I care you may
leave our Hebe where she is, but I was once much pleased with these
representations, and to-morrow morning, as soon as I have slept, I
shall return to Alexandria, if you do not carry them into effect, and
so deprive me, Heracles, of the bride chosen for me by the gods. I have
said what I have said, and I am not given to changing my mind. Besides,
it is time that we should show ourselves to our friends feasting here in
the next room. They are already merry, and it must be getting late.”
With these words Euergetes rose from his couch, and beckoned to Hierax
and a chamberlain, who arranged the folds of his transparent robe, while
Philometor and Cleopatra whispered together, shrugging their shoulders
and shaking their heads; and Publius, pressing his hand on the
Corinthian’s wrist, said in his ear: “You will not give them any help
if you value our friendship; we will leave as soon as we can do so with
propriety.”
Euergetes did not like to be kept waiting. He was already going towards
the door, when Cleopatra called him back, and said pleasantly, but with
gentle reproachfulness:
“You know that we are willing to follow the Egyptian custom of carrying
out as far as possible the wishes of a friend and brother for his
birthday festival; but for that very reason it is not right in you to
try to force us into a proceeding which we refuse with difficulty, and
yet cannot carry out without exposing ourselves to the most unpleasant
consequences. We beg you to make some other demand on us, and we will
certainly grant it if it lies in our power.”
The young colossus responded to his sister’s appeal with a loud shout
of laughter, waved his arm with a flourish of his hand expressive of
haughty indifference; and then he exclaimed:
“The only thing I really had a fancy for out of all your possessions you
are not willing to concede, and so I must abide by my word--or I go on
my way.”
Again Cleopatra and her husband exchanged a few muttered words and rapid
glances, Euergetes watching them the while; his legs straddled apart,
his huge body bent forward, and his hands resting on his hips. His
attitude expressed so much arrogance and puerile, defiant, unruly
audacity, that Cleopatra found it difficult to suppress an exclamation
of disgust before she spoke.
“We are indeed brethren,” she said, “and so, for the sake of the peace
which has been restored and preserved with so much difficulty, we give
in. The best way will be to request Asclepiodorus--”
But here Euergetes interrupted the queen, clapping his hands loudly and
laughing:
“That is right, sister! only find me my Hebe! How you do it is your
affair, and is all the same to me. To-morrow evening we will have a
rehearsal, and the day after we will give a representation of which our
grandchildren shall repeat the fame. Nor shall a brilliant audience be
lacking, for my complimentary visitors with their priestly splendor
and array of arms will, it is to be hoped, arrive punctually. Come, my
lords, we will go, and see what there is good to drink or to listen to
at the table in the next room.”
The doors were opened; music, loud talking, the jingle of cups, and the
noise of laughter sounded through them into the room where the princes
had been supping, and all the king’s guests followed Euergetes, with the
exception of Eulaeus. Cleopatra allowed them to depart without speaking
a word; only to Publius she said: “Till we meet again!” but she detained
the Corinthian, saying:
“You, Lysias, are the cause of this provoking business. Try now to
repair the mischief by bringing the girl to us. Do not hesitate! I will
guard her, protect her with the greatest care, rely upon me.”
“She is a modest maiden,” replied Lysias, “and will not accompany
me willingly, I am sure. When I proposed her for the part of Hebe I
certainly supposed that a word from you, the king and queen, would
suffice to induce the head of the temple to entrust her to you for a few
hours of harmless amusement. Pardon me if I too quit you now; I have the
key of my friend’s chest still in my possession, and must restore it to
him.”
“Shall we have her carried off secretly?” asked Cleopatra of her
husband, when the Corinthian had followed the other guests.
“Only let us have no scandal, no violence,” cried Philometor anxiously.
“The best way would be for me to write to Asclepiodorus, and beg him in
a friendly manner to entrust this girl--Ismene or Irene, or whatever the
ill-starred child’s name is--for a few days to you, Cleopatra, for your
pleasure. I can offer him a prospect of an addition to the gift of land
I made today, and which fell far short of his demands.”
“Let me entreat your majesty,” interposed Eulaeus, who was now alone
with the royal couple, “let me entreat you not to make any great
promises on this occasion, for the moment you do so Asclepiodorus will
attribute an importance to your desire--”
“Which it is far from having, and must not seem to have,” interrupted
the queen. “It is preposterous to waste so many words about a
miserable creature, a water-carrying girl, and to go through so much
disturbance--but how are we to put an end to it all? What is your
advice, Eulaeus?”
“I thank you for that enquiry, noble princess,” replied Eulaeus. “My
lord, the king, in my opinion, should have the girl carried off, but
not with any violence, nor by a man--whom she would hardly follow so
immediately as is necessary--but by a woman.
“I am thinking of the old Egyptian tale of ‘The Two Brothers,’ which you
are acquainted with. The Pharaoh desired to possess himself of the wife
of the younger one, who lived on the Mount of Cedars, and he sent armed
men to fetch her away; but only one of them came back to him, for Batau
had slain all the others. Then a woman was sent with splendid ornaments,
such as women love, and the fair one followed her unresistingly to the
palace.
“We may spare the ambassadors, and send only the woman; your lady in
waiting, Zoe, will execute this commission admirably. Who can blame us
in any way if a girl, who loves finery, runs away from her keepers?”
“But all the world will see her as Hebe,” sighed Philometor, “and
proclaim us--the sovereign protectors of the worship of Serapis--as
violators of the temple, if Asclepiodorus leads the cry. No, no, the
high-priest must first be courteously applied to. In the case of
his raising any difficulties, but not otherwise, shall Zoe make the
attempt.”
“So be it then,” said the queen, as if it were her part to express her
confirmation of her husband’s proposition.
“Let your lady accompany me,” begged Eulaeus, “and prefer your request
to Asclepiodorus. While I am speaking with the high-priest, Zoe can at
any rate win over the girl, and whatever we do must be done to-morrow,
or the Roman will be beforehand with us. I know that he has cast an eye
on Irene, who is in fact most lovely. He gives her flowers, feeds his
pet bird with pheasants and peaches and other sweetmeats, lets himself
be lured into the Serapeum by his lady-love as often as possible, stays
there whole hours, and piously follows the processions, in order to
present the violets with which you graciously honored him by giving them
to his fair one--who no doubt would rather wear royal flowers than any
others--”
“Liar!” cried the queen, interrupting the courtier in such violent
excitement and such ungoverned rage, so completely beside herself, that
her husband drew back startled.
“You are a slanderer! a base calumniator! The Roman attacks you with
naked weapons, but you slink in the dark, like a scorpion, and try
to sting your enemy in the heel. Apelles, the painter, warns us--the
grandchildren of Lagus--against folks of your kidney in the picture he
painted against Antiphilus; as I look at you I am reminded of his Demon
of Calumny. The same spite and malice gleam in your eyes as in hers, and
the same fury and greed for some victim, fire your flushed face! How
you would rejoice if the youth whom Apelles has represented Calumny as
clutching by the hair, could but be Publius! and if only the lean and
hollow-eyed form of Envy, and the loathsome female figures of Cunning
and Treachery would come to your did as they have to hers! But I
remember too the steadfast and truthful glance of the boy she has flung
to the ground, his arms thrown up to heaven, appealing for protection
to the goddess and the king--and though Publius Scipio is man enough
to guard himself against open attack, I will protect him against being
surprised from an ambush! Leave this room! Go, I say, and you shall see
how we punish slanderers!”
At these words Eulaeus flung himself at the queen’s feet, but she,
breathing hurriedly and with quivering nostrils, looked away over his
head as if she did not even see him, till her husband came towards her,
and said in a voice of most winning gentleness:
“Do not condemn him unheard, and raise him from his abasement. At least
give him the opportunity of softening your indignation by bringing the
water-bearer here without angering Asclepiodorus. Carry out this affair
well, Eulaeus, and you will find in me an advocate with Cleopatra.”
The king pointed to the door, and Eulaeus retired, bowing deeply and
finding his way out backwards. Philometer, now alone with his wife, said
with mild reproach:
“How could you abandon yourself to such unmeasured anger? So faithful
and prudent a servant--and one of the few still living of those to
whom our mother was attached--cannot be sent away like a mere clumsy
attendant. Besides, what is the great crime he has committed? Is it a
slander which need rouse you to such fury when a cautious old man says
in all innocence of a young one--a man belonging to a world which knows
nothing of the mysterious sanctity of Serapis--that he has taken a fancy
to a girl, who is admired by all who see her, that he seeks her out, and
gives her flowers--”
“Gives her flowers?” exclaimed Cleopatra, breaking out afresh. “No, he
is accused of persecuting a maiden attached to Serapis--to Serapis I
say. But it is simply false, and you would be as angry as I am if you
were ever capable of feeling manly indignation, and if you did not want
to make use of Eulaeus for many things, some of which I know, and others
which you choose to conceal from me. Only let him fetch the girl; and
when once we have her here, and if I find that the Roman’s indictment
against Eulaeus--which I will hear to-morrow morning--is well founded,
you shall see that I have manly vigor enough for both of us. Come away
now; they are waiting for us in the other room.”
The queen gave a call, and chamberlains and servants hurried in; her
shell-shaped litter was brought, and in a few minutes, with her husband
by her side, she was borne into the great peristyle where the grandees
of the court, the commanders of the troops, the most prominent of the
officials of the Egyptian provinces, many artists and savants, and the
ambassadors from foreign powers, were reclining on long rows of couches,
and talking over their wine, the feast itself being ended.
The Greeks and the dark-hued Egyptians were about equally represented in
this motley assembly; but among them, and particularly among the learned
and the fighting men, there were also several Israelites and Syrians.
The royal pair were received by the company with acclamations and marks
of respect; Cleopatra smiled as sweetly as ever, and waved her fan
graciously as she descended from her litter; still she vouchsafed not
the slightest attention to any one present, for she was seeking Publius,
at first among those who were nearest to the couch prepared for her,
and then among the other Hellenes, the Egyptians, the Jews, the
ambassadors--still she found him not, and when at last she enquired for
the Roman of the chief chamberlain at her side, the official was sent
for who had charge of the foreign envoys. This was an officer of very
high rank, whose duty it was to provide for the representatives of
foreign powers, and he was now near at hand, for he had long been
waiting for an opportunity to offer to the queen a message of
leave-taking from Publius Cornelius Scipio, and to tell her from him,
that he had retired to his tent because a letter had come to him from
Rome.
“Is that true?” asked the queen letting her feather fan droop, and
looking her interlocutor severely in the face.
“The trireme Proteus, coming from Brundisium, entered the harbor
of Eunostus only yesterday,” he replied; “and an hour ago a mounted
messenger brought the letter. Nor was it an ordinary letter but a
despatch from the Senate--I know the form and seal.”
“And Lysias, the Corinthian?”
“He accompanied the Roman.”
“Has the Senate written to him too?” asked the queen annoyed, and
ironically. She turned her back on the officer without any kind of
courtesy, and turning again to the chamberlain she went on, in incisive
tones, as if she were presiding at a trial:
“King Euergetes sits there among the Egyptians near the envoys from
the temples of the Upper Country. He looks as if he were giving them a
discourse, and they hang on his lips. What is he saying, and what does
all this mean?”
“Before you came in, he was sitting with the Syrians and Jews, and
telling them what the merchants and scribes, whom he sent to the South,
have reported of the lands lying near the lakes through which the Nile
is said to flow. He thinks that new sources of wealth have revealed
themselves not far from the head of the sacred river which can hardly
flow in from the ocean, as the ancients supposed.”
“And now?” asked Cleopatra. “What information is he giving to the
Egyptians?”
The chamberlain hastened towards Euergetes’ couch, and soon returned to
the queen--who meanwhile had exchanged a few friendly words with Onias,
the Hebrew commander--and informed her in a low tone that the king
was interpreting a passage from the Timaeus of Plato, in which Solon
celebrates the lofty wisdom of the priests of Sais; he was speaking with
much spirit, and the Egyptians received it with loud applause.
Cleopatra’s countenance darkened more and more, but she concealed it
behind her fan, signed to Philometor to approach, and whispered to him:
“Keep near Euergetes; he has a great deal too much to say to the
Egyptians. He is extremely anxious to stand well with them, and those
whom he really desires to please are completely entrapped by his
portentous amiability. He has spoiled my evening, and I shall leave you
to yourselves.”
“Till to-morrow, then.”
“I shall hear the Roman’s complaint up on my roof-terrace; there is
always a fresh air up there. If you wish to be present I will send for
you, but first I would speak to him alone, for he has received letters
from the Senate which may contain something of importance. So, till
to-morrow.”