“Permit me,” said Lysias, “to direct your attention to a piece of sculpture in marble of the noblest workmanship, which is both old and beautiful, and yet which may be known to few among you.  It exists on the cistern of my father’s house at Corinth, and was executed many centuries since by a great artist of the Peloponnesus.  Publius was delighted with the work, and it is in fact beautiful beyond description.  It is an exquisite representation of the marriage of Heracles and Hebe—­of the hero, raised to divinity, with sempiternal youth.  Will Your Majesty allow yourself to be led by Pallas Athene and your mother Alcmene to your nuptials with Hebe?”

“Why not?” said Euergetes.  “Only the Hebe must be beautiful.  But one thing must be considered; how are we to get the cistern from your father’s house at Corinth to this place by to-morrow or next day?  Such a group cannot be posed from memory without the original to guide us; and though the story runs that the statue of Serapis flew from Sinope to Alexandria, and though there are magicians still at Memphis—­”

“We shall not need them,” interrupted Publius, “while I was staying as a guest in the house of my friend’s parents—­which is altogether more magnificent than the old castle of King Gyges at Sardis—­I had some gems engraved after this lovely group, as a wedding-present for my sister.  They are extremely successful, and I have them with me in my tent.”

“Have you a sister?” asked the queen, leaning over towards the Roman.  “You must tell me all about her.”

“She is a girl like all other girls,” replied Publius, looking down at the ground, for it was most repugnant to his feelings to speak of his sister in the presence of Euergetes.

“And you are unjust like all other brothers,” said Cleopatra smiling, “and I must hear more about her, for”—­and she whispered the words and looked meaningly at Publius—­“all that concerns you must interest me.”

During this dialogue the royal brothers had addressed themselves to Lysias with questions as to the marriage of Heracles and Hebe, and all the company were attentive to the Greek as he went on:  “This fine work does not represent the marriage properly speaking, but the moment when the bridegroom is led to the bride.  The hero, with his club on his shoulder, and wearing the lion’s skin, is led by Pallas Athene, who, in performing this office of peace, has dropped her spear and carries her helmet in her hand; they are accompanied by his mother Alcmene, and are advancing towards the bride’s train.  This is headed by no less a personage than Apollo himself, singing the praises of Hymenaeus to a lute.  With him walks his sister Artemis and behind them the mother of Hebe, accompanied by Hermes, the messenger of the gods, as the envoy of Zeus.  Then follows the principal group, which is one of the most lovely works of Greek art that I am acquainted with.  Hebe comes forward to meet her bridegroom, gently led on by Aphrodite, the queen of love.  Peitho, the goddess of persuasion, lays her hand on the bride’s arm, imperceptibly urging her forward and turning away her face; for what she had to say has been said, and she smiles to herself, for Hebe has not turned a deaf ear to her voice, and he who has once listened to Peitho must do what she desires.”