These words occasioned the greatest excitement throughout the conclave of priests, and Asclepiodorus exclaimed: 

“Oh! women, women!  You indeed were right, Philammon; I could not and would not believe it!  Cleopatra has done many things which are forgiven only in a queen, but that she should become the tool of her brother’s basest passions, even you, Philammon, could hardly regard as likely, though you are always prepared to expect evil rather than good.  But now, what is to be done?  How can we protect ourselves against violence and superior force?”

Klea had appeared before the priests with cheeks crimson and glowing from the noontide heat, but at the high-priest’s last words the blood left her face, she turned ashy-pale, and a chill shiver ran through her trembling limbs.  Her father’s child—­her bright, innocent Irene—­basely stolen for Euergetes, that licentious tyrant of whose wild deeds Serapion had told her only last evening, when he painted the dangers that would threaten her and Irene if they should quit the shelter of the sanctuary.

Alas, it was too true!  They had tempted away her darling child, her comfort and delight, lured her with splendor and ease, only to sink her in shame!  She was forced to cling to the back of the chair she had disdained, to save herself from falling.

But this weakness overmastered her for a few minutes only; she boldly took two hasty steps up to the table behind which the high-priest was sitting, and, supporting herself with her right hand upon it, she exclaimed, while her voice, usually so full and sonorous, had a hoarse tone: 

“A woman has been the instrument of making another woman unworthy of the name of woman! and you—­you, the protectors of right and virtue—­you who are called to act according to the will and mind of the gods whom you serve—­you are too weak to prevent it?  If you endure this, if you do not put a stop to this crime you are not worthy—­nay, I will not be interrupted—­you, I say, are unworthy of the sacred title and of the reverence you claim, and I will appeal—­”

“Silence, girl!” cried Asclepiodorus to the terribly excited Klea.  “I would have you imprisoned with the blasphemers, if I did not well understand the anguish which has turned your brain.  We will interfere on behalf of the abducted girl, and you must wait patiently in silence.  You, Callimachus, must at once order Ismael, the messenger, to saddle the horses, and ride to Memphis to deliver a despatch from me to the queen; let us all combine to compose it, and subscribe our names as soon as we are perfectly certain that Irene has been carried off from these precincts.  Philammon, do you command that the gong be sounded which calls together all the inhabitants of the temple; and you, my girl, quit this hall, and join the others.”

CHAPTER XVI.