“A little higher still,” shouted the recluse to his assistant.  “Let us set the thing on its edge! so, push away, a little more.  There, I have propped up the wretched thing and there it may lie.  If the bats pay me a visit to-night I will think of you and give them your best wishes.”

“You may save yourself that trouble,” replied the young man with cool dignity.  “I will send you a carpenter who shall refix the shutter, and we offer you our apologies for having been the occasion of the mischief that has happened.”

The old man did not interrupt the speaker, but, when he had stared at him from head to foot, he said:  “You are strong and you speak fairly, and I might like you well enough if you were in other company.  I don’t want your carpenter; only send me down a hammer, a wedge, and a few strong nails.  Now, you can do nothing more for me, so pack off”

“We are going at once,” said the more handsomely dressed visitor in a thin and effeminate voice.  “What can a man do when the boys pelt him with dirt from a safe hiding-place, but take himself off”

“Be off, be off,” said the person thus described, with a laugh.  “As far off as Samothrace if you like, fat Eulaeus; you can scarcely have forgotten the way there since you advised the king to escape thither with all his treasure.  But if you cannot trust yourself to find it alone, I recommend you your interpreter and guide there to show you the road.”

The Eunuch Eulaeus, the favorite councillor of King Ptolemy—­called Philometor (the lover of his mother)—­turned pale at these words, cast a sinister glance at the old man and beckoned to the young Roman; he however was not inclined to follow, for the scolding old oddity had taken his fancy—­perhaps because he was conscious that the old man, who generally showed no reserve in his dislikes, had a liking for him.  Besides, he found nothing to object to in his opinion of his companions, so he turned to Eulaeus and said courteously: 

“Accept my best thanks for your company so far, and do not let me detain you any longer from your more important occupations on my account.”

Eulaeus bowed and replied, “I know what my duty is.  The king entrusted me with your safe conduct; permit me therefore to wait for you under the acacias yonder.”

When Eulaeus and the guide had reached the green grove, Irene hoped to find an opportunity to prefer her petition, but the Roman had stopped in front of the old man’s cell, and had begun a conversation with him which she could not venture to interrupt.  She set down the platter with the bread and dates that had been entrusted to her on a projecting stone by her side with a little sigh, crossed her arms and feet as she leaned against the wall, and pricked up her ears to hear their talk.

“I am not a Greek,” said the youth, “and you are quite mistaken in thinking that I came to Egypt and to see you out of mere curiosity.”