“I do not think books are bad,” said Cornelia, still soberly, “but I know that they can never make me happy.”

“What can?” demanded her tormenter.

“You!”

* * * * *

So the hours of the afternoon ran on, and the lovers gave them little heed.  But they were not too selfish to refuse to Fabia’s sharing in their joy; and Drusus knew that he was dear no less, though differently, in the eyes of his aunt than of his betrothed.  And there were duties to perform that not even the long-deferred delights of the afternoon could postpone.  Chief of these were the arrangements for the immediate departure of the Roman ladies for Alexandria.  Agias, who was called into the council, was invaluable in information and suggestion.  He said that Pothinus had acted at Pratinas’s advice, when he took Fabia and Cornelia to the palace.  The eunuch had expected to use them half as hostages, half as captives to be put to ransom.  If Caesar had delayed a few days, Pothinus would not have lied when he made excuse that the ladies had been sent up the river.  But now Agias believed that the regent was afraid, having overreached himself, and it was best to make a prompt demand for conveyance to Alexandria.  This, indeed, proved advantageous policy.  The eunuch made difficulties and suggested obstacles, but Drusus made his native Italian haughtiness stand him in good stead.  It would largely depend, he said insinuatingly, on the way in which his demand was complied with, what sort of a report he made to Caesar touching the execution of Lucius Lentulus and Ahenobarbus.  During his interview with Pothinus, the Roman came face to face with Pratinas.  No words were exchanged, but Drusus noticed that the elegant Hellene flushed, and then turned pale, when he fastened upon him a gaze steady and half menacing.  Pothinus ended by yielding everything—­the use of the royal chariots and horses, the use of the Nile boats needed for swift transit across the Delta, and orders on the local garrisons and governors to provide entertainment and assistance.

As a result Cornelia speedily found herself again journeying, not this time in a slow barge following the main branches of the Nile, but by more rapid, if less luxurious, conveyance, now by land, now by water, hurrying westward.  They passed through Sethroe and Tanis, Mendes and Sebennytus, Xais and Sais, where were the tomb of Osiris and the great Egyptian university in this the capital of the mighty Pharaohs who had wrested the nation from the clutches of Assyria.  Then they fared up the Nile to the old Milesian trading factory of Naucratis,—­now dropping into decline beside the thriving Alexandria,—­and then by boat they pressed on to the capital itself.  Never more delightful journey for Cornelia or for Drusus; they saw the strange land through one another’s eyes; they expressed their own thoughts through one another’s lips; they were happy together, as if children at play; and Fabia was their never exacting, ever beneficent, guardian goddess.