“After the first sacrifice,” added Euergetes.  “If I know you well, something that you will then hear will please you greatly; very greatly indeed, I should think.  Bring the children with you; that I ask of you as a birthday request.”

CHAPTER XX.

The royal chariot in which Klea was standing, wrapped in the cloak and wearing the hat of the captain of the civic guard, went swiftly and without stopping through the streets of Memphis.  As long as she saw houses with lighted windows on each side of the way, and met riotous soldiers and quiet citizens going home from the taverns, or from working late in their workshops, with lanterns in their hands or carried by their slaves—­so long her predominant feeling was one of hatred to Publius; and mixed with this was a sentiment altogether new to her—­a sentiment that made her blood boil, and her heart now stand still and then again beat wildly—­the thought that he might be a wretched deceiver.  Had he not attempted to entrap one of them—­whether her sister or herself it was all the same—­wickedly to betray her, and to get her into his power!

“With me,” thought she, “he could not hope to gain his evil ends, and when he saw that I knew how to protect myself he lured the poor unresisting child away with him, in order to ruin her and to drag her into shame and misery.  Just like Rome herself, who seizes on one country after another to make them her own, so is this ruthless man.  No sooner had that villain Eulaeus’ letter reached him, than he thought himself justified in believing that I too was spellbound by a glance from his eyes, and would spread my wings to fly into his arms; and so he put out his greedy hand to catch me too, and threw aside the splendor and delights of a royal banquet to hurry by night out into the desert, and to risk a hideous death—­for the avenging deities still punish the evildoer.”

By this time she was shrouded in total darkness, for the moon was still hidden by black clouds.  Memphis was already behind her, and the chariot was passing through a tall-stemmed palm-grove, where even at mid-day deep shades intermingled with the sunlight.  When, just at this spot, the thought once more pierced her soul that the seducer was devoted to death, she felt as though suddenly a bright glaring light had flashed up in her and round her, and she could have broken out into a shout of joy like one who, seeking retribution for blood, places his foot at last on the breast of his fallen foe.  She clenched her teeth tightly and grasped her girdle, in which she had stuck the knife given her by the smith.

If the charioteer by her side had been Publius, she would have stabbed him to the heart with the weapon with delight, and then have thrown herself under the horses’ hoofs and the brazen wheels of the chariot.

But no!  Still more gladly would she have found him dying in the desert, and before his heart had ceased to beat have shouted in his ear how much she hated him; and then, when his breast no longer heaved a breath—­then she would have flung herself upon him, and have kissed his dimmed eyes.