Thus it came to pass that on the next day I arrayed myself in a long and flowing robe, after the fashion of a magician or astrologer.  I placed a cap on my head, about which were broidered images of the stars, and in my belt a scribe’s palette and a roll of papyrus written over with magic spells and signs.  In my hand I held a wand of ebony, tipped with ivory, such as is used by priests and masters of magic.  Among these, indeed, I took high rank, filling my knowledge of their secrets which I had learned at Annu what I lacked in that skill which comes from use.  And so with no small shame, for I love not such play and hold this common magic in contempt, I set forth through the Bruchium to the palace on the Lochias, being guided on my way by my uncle Sepa.  At length, passing up the avenue of sphinxes, we came to the great marble gateway and the gates of bronze, within which is the guard-house.  Here my uncle left me, breathing many prayers for my safety and success.  But I advanced with an easy air to the gate, where I was roughly challenged by the Gallic sentries, and asked of my name, following, and business.  I gave my name, Harmachis, the astrologer, saying that my business was with the Lady Charmion, the Queen’s lady.  Thereon the man made as though to let me pass in, when a captain of the guard, a Roman named Paulus, came forward and forbade it.  Now, this Paulus was a large limbed man, with a woman’s face, and a hand that shook from wine-bibbing.  Still he knew me again.

“Why,” he cried, in the Latin tongue, to one who came with him, “this is the fellow who wrestled yesterday with the Nubian gladiator, that same who now howls for his lost hand underneath my window.  Curses on the black brute!  I had a bet upon him for the games!  I have backed him against Caius, and now he’ll never fight again, and I must lose my money, all through this astrologer.  What is it thou sayest?—­thou hast business with the Lady Charmion?  Nay, then, that settles it.  I will not let thee through.  Fellow, I worship the Lady Charmion—­ay, we all worship her, though she gives us more slaps than sighs.  And dost thou think that we will suffer an astrologer with such eyes and such a chest as thine to cut in the game?—­by Bacchus, no!  She must come out to keep the tryst, for in thou shalt not go.”

“Sir,” I said humbly and yet with dignity, “I pray that a message may be sent to the Lady Charmion, for my business will not brook delay.”

“Ye Gods!” answered the fool, “whom have we here that he cannot wait?  A Caesar in disguise?  Nay, be off—­be off! if thou wouldst not learn how a spear-prick feels behind.”

“Nay,” put in the other officer, “he is an astrologer; make him prophesy—­make him play tricks.”

“Ay,” cried the others who had sauntered up, “let the fellow show his art.  If he is a magician he can pass the gates, Paulus or no Paulus.”

“Right willingly, good Sirs,” I answered; for I saw no other means of entering.  “Wilt thou, my young and noble Lord”—­and I addressed him who was with Paulus—­“suffer that I look thee in the eyes; perhaps I may read what is written there?”