“She will keep it.”

A few minutes later the boy came hurrying back, and pulling the Greek vehemently by his dress, he cried: 

“Come, come with me, into the house.”  Lysias with a light and graceful leap sprang right over the little fellow’s head, tore open the door, and spread out his arms as he caught sight of Irene, who, though trembling like a hunted gazelle, flew down the narrow ladder-like stairs to meet him, and fell on his breast laughing and crying and breathless.

In an instant their lips met, but after this first kiss she tore herself from his arms, rushed up the stairs again, and then, from the top step, shouted joyously: 

“I could not help seeing you this once! now farewell till Klea comes, then we meet again,” and she vanished into an upper room.

Lysias turned to his friend like one intoxicated, he threw himself down on his bench, and said: 

“Now the heavens may fall, nothing can trouble me!  Ye immortal gods, how fair the world is!”

“Strange boy!” exclaimed the Roman, interrupting his friend’s rapture.  “You can not stay for ever in this dingy stall.”

“I will not stir from this spot till Klea comes.  The boy there shall fetch me victuals as an old sparrow feeds his young; and if necessary I will lie here for a week, like the little sardines they preserve in oil at Alexandria.”

“I hope you will have only a few hours to wait; but I must go, for I am planning a rare surprise for King Euergetes on his birthday, and must go to the palace.  The festival is already in full swing.  Only listen how they are shouting and calling down by the harbor; I fancy I can hear the name of Euergetes.”

“Present my compliments to the fat monster!  May we meet again soon—­brother-in-law!”

CHAPTER XXV.

King Euergetes was pacing restlessly up and down the lofty room which his brother had furnished with particular magnificence to be his reception-room.  Hardly had the sun risen on the morning of his birthday when he had betaken himself to the temple of Ptah with a numerous suite—­before his brother Philometor could set out—­in order to sacrifice there, to win the good graces of the high-priest of the sanctuary, and to question of the oracle of Apis.  All had fallen out well, for the sacred bull had eaten out of his hand; and yet he would have been more glad—­though it should have disdained the cake he offered it, if only Eulaeus had brought him the news that the plot against the Roman’s life had been successful.

Gift after gift, addresses of congratulation from every district of the country, priestly decrees drawn up in his honor and engraved on tablets of hard stone, lay on every table or leaned against the walls of the vast ball which the guests had just quitted.  Only Hierax, the king’s friend, remained with him, supporting himself, while he waited for some sign from his sovereign, on a high throne made of gold and ivory and richly decorated with gems, which had been sent to the king by the Jewish community of Alexandria.