“Yes—­I will go back to the place I came from,” said Klea eagerly, interrupting the messenger.  “Take me at once to the chariot.”

“Follow me, then,” said the old man.

“But I have no veil,” observed Klea, “and have only this thin robe on.  Rough soldiers snatched my wrapper from my face, and my cloak from off my shoulders.”

“I will bring you the captain’s cloak which is lying here in the orderly’s room, and his travelling-hat too; that will hide your face with its broad flap.  You are so tall that you might be taken for a man, and that is well, for a woman leaving the palace at this hour would hardly pass unmolested.  A slave shall fetch the things from your temple to-morrow.  I may inform you that my master ordered me take as much care of you as if you were his own daughter.  And he told me too—­and I had nearly forgotten it—­to tell you that your sister was carried off by the Roman, and not by that other dangerous man, you would know whom he meant.  Now wait, pray, till I return; I shall not be long gone.”

In a few minutes the guard returned with a large cloak in which he wrapped Klea, and a broad-brimmed travelling-hat which she pressed down on her head, and he then conducted her to that quarter of the palace where the king’s stables were.  She kept close to the officer, and was soon mounted on a chariot, and then conducted by the driver—­who took her for a young Macedonian noble, who was tempted out at night by some assignation—­as far as the second tavern on the road back to the Serapeum.

CHAPTER XIX.

While Klea had been listening to the conversation between Euergetes and Eulaeus, Cleopatra had been sitting in her tent, and allowing herself to be dressed with no less care than on the preceding evening, but in other garments.

It would seem that all had not gone so smoothly as she wished during the day, for her two tire-women had red eyes.  Her lady-in-waiting, Zoe, was reading to her, not this time from a Greek philosopher but from a Greek translation of the Hebrew Psalms:  a discussion as to their poetic merit having arisen a few days previously at the supper-table.  Onias, the Israelite general, had asserted that these odes might be compared with those of Alcman or of Pindar, and had quoted certain passages that had pleased the queen.  To-day she was not disposed for thought, but wanted something strange and out of the common to distract her mind, so she desired Zoe to open the book of the Hebrews, of which the translation was considered by the Hellenic Jews in Alexandria as an admirable work—­nay, even as inspired by God himself; it had long been known to her through her Israelite friends and guests.

Cleopatra had been listening for about a quarter of an hour to Zoe’s reading when the blast of a trumpet rang out on the steps which led up her tent, announcing a visitor of the male sex.  The queen glanced angrily round, signed to her lady to stop reading, and exclaimed: