“It will all be in vain,” said Eulaeus calmly and dispassionately.  “For he is master, in the fullest and widest meaning of the word, of the queen’s favor—­nay—­if I may permit myself to speak out freely—­of Cleopatra’s more than warm liking, and he enjoys this sweetest of gifts with a thankful heart.  Philometor—­as he always does—­lets matters go as they may, and Cleopatra and Publius—­Publius and Cleopatra triumph even publicly in their love; gaze into each other’s eyes like any pair of pastoral Arcadians, exchange cups and kiss the rim on the spot where the lips of the other have touched it.  Promise and grant what you will to this man, he will stand by your sister; and if you should succeed in expelling her from the throne he would boldly treat you as Popilius Laenas did your uncle Antiochus:  he would draw a circle round your person, and say that if you dared to step beyond it Rome would march against you.”

Euergetes listened in silence, then, flinging away the draperies that wrapped his body, he paced up and down in stormy agitation, groaning from time to time, and roaring like a wild bull that feels itself confined with cords and bands, and that exerts all its strength in vain to rend them.

Finally he stood still in front of Eulaeus and asked him: 

“What more do you know of the Roman?”

“He, who would not allow you to compare yourself to Alcibiades, is endeavoring to out-do that darling of the Athenian maidens; for he is not content with having stolen the heart of the king’s wife, he is putting out his hand to reach the fairest virgin who serves the highest of the gods.  The water-bearer whom Lysias, the Roman’s friend, recommended for a Hebe is beloved by Publius, and he hopes to enjoy her favors more easily in your gay palace than he can in the gloomy temple of Serapis.”

At these words the king struck his forehead with his hand, exclaiming:  “Oh! to be a king—­a man who is a match for any ten! and to be obliged to submit with a patient shrug like a peasant whose grain my horsemen crush into the ground!

“He can spoil everything; mar all my plans and thwart all my desires—­and I can do nothing but clench my fist, and suffocate with rage.  But this fuming and groaning are just as unavailing as my raging and cursing by the death-bed of my mother, who was dead all the same and never got up again.

“If this Publius were a Greek, a Syrian, an Egyptian—­nay, were he my own brother—­I tell you, Eulaeus, he should not long stand in my way; but he is plenipotentiary from Rome, and Rome is Fate—­Rome is Fate.”

The king flung himself back on to his cushions with a deep sigh, and as if crushed with despair, hiding his face in the soft pillows; but Eulaeus crept noiselessly up to the young giant, and whispered in his ear with solemn deliberateness: 

“Rome is Fate, but even Rome can do nothing against Fate.  Publius Scipio must die because he is ruining your mother’s daughter, and stands in the way of your saving Egypt.  The Senate would take a terrible revenge if he were murdered, but what can they do if wild beasts fall on their plenipotentiary, and tear him to pieces?”