“You have forgotten your fan, and your children!” the king called after her; but Cleopatra did not hear his words, for, once outside her brother’s apartment, all her forced and assumed composure flew to the winds; she clasped her hands on her temples, and rushed down the broad stairs of the palace as if she were pursued by fiends.

When the sound of her steps had died away, Euergetes turned to the Roman and said: 

“Now, as you have fulfilled what you deem to be your duty, I beg of you to explain the meaning of your dark speeches just now, for they were addresed to Euergetes the man, and not the king.  If I understood you rightly you meant to imply that your life had been attempted, and that one of those extraordinary old men devoted to Serapis had been murdered instead of you.”

“By your orders and those of your accomplice Eulaeus,” answered Publius coolly.

“Eulaeus, come here!” thundered the king to the trembling courtier, with a fearful and threatening glare in his eyes.  “Have you hired murderers to kill my friend—­this noble guest of our royal house—­because he threatened to bring your crimes to light?”

“Mercy!” whimpered Eulaeus sinking on his knees before the king.

“He confesses his crime!” cried Euergetes; he laid his hand on the girdle of his weeping subordinate, and commanded Hierax to hand him over without delay to the watch, and to have him hanged before all beholders by the great gate of the citadel.  Eulaeus tried to pray for mercy and to speak, but the powerful officer, who hated the contemptible wretch, dragged him up, and out of the room.

“You were quite right to lay your complaint before me,” said Euergetes while Eulaeus cries and howls were still audible on the stairs.  “And you see that I know how to punish those who dare to offend a guest.”

“He has only met with the portion he has deserved for years,” replied Publius.  “But now that we stand face to face, man to man, I must close my account with you too.  In your service and by your orders Eulaeus set two assassins to lie in wait for me—­”

“Publius Cornelius Scipio!” cried the king, interrupting his enemy in an ominous tone; but the Roman went on, calmly and quietly: 

“I am saying nothing that I cannot support by witnesses; and I have truly set forth, in two letters, that king Euergetes during the past night has attempted the life of an ambassador from Rome.  One of these despatches is addressed to my father, the other to Popilius Lamas, and both are already on their way to Rome.  I have given instructions that they are to be opened if, in the course of three months reckoned from the present date, I have not demanded them back.  You see you must needs make it convenient to protect my life, and to carry out whatever I may require of you.  If you obey my will in everything I may demand, all that has happened this night shall remain a secret between you and me and a third person, for whose silence I will be answerable; this I promise you, and I never broke my word.”