Alexas accompanied the Queen to the tablinum, where they found the eunuch.  A slave attended him, carrying a pouch filled with letters which had just been brought by two messengers from Syria.  Among them were some which must be answered without delay.  The Keeper of the Seal and the Exegetus were also waiting.  Their late visit was due to the necessity of holding a conference in relation to the measures to be adopted to calm the excited citizens.  All the galleys which had escaped from the battle had entered the harbour the day before, wreathed with garlands as if a great victory had been won.  Loud acclamations greeted them, yet tidings of the defeat at Actium spread with the swiftness of the wind.  Crowds were now gathering, threatening demonstrations had been made in front of the Sebasteum, and on the square of the Serapeum the troops had been compelled to interfere, and blood had flowed.

There lay the letters.  Zeno remarked that more papers conferring authority were required for the work on the canal, and the Exegetus earnestly besought definite instruction.

“It is much—­much,” murmured Cleopatra.  Then, drawing herself up to her full height, she exclaimed, “Well, then, to work!”

But Alexas did not permit her to do this at once.  Humbly advancing as she took her seat at the large writing-table, he whispered:  “And with all this, must my royal mistress devote time and thought to the destroyer of her peace.  To disturb your Majesty with this trifle is a crime; yet it must be committed, for should the affair remain unheeded longer, the trickling rivulet may become a mountain torrent—­”

Here Cleopatra, whose glance had just rested upon a fateful letter from King Herod, turned her face half towards her husband’s favourite, exclaiming curtly, with glowing cheeks, “Presently.”

Then she glanced rapidly over the letter, pushed it excitedly aside, and dismissed the waiting Syrian with the impatient words:  “Attend to the trial and the rest.  No injustice, but no untimely mildness.  I will look into this unpleasant matter myself before the Imperator returns.”

“And the authority?” asked the Syrian, with another low bow.

“You have it.  If you need a written one, apply to Zeno.  We will discuss the affair further at some less busy hour.”

The Syrian retired; but Cleopatra turned to the eunuch and, flushed with emotion, cried, pointing to the King of Judea’s letter:  “Did you ever witness baser ingratitude?  The rats think the ship is sinking, and it is time to leave it.  If we succeed in keeping above water, they will return in swarms; and this must, must, must be done, for the sake of this beloved country and her independence.  Then the children, the children!  All our powers must now be taxed, every expedient must be remembered and used.  We will hammer each feeble hope until it becomes the strong steel of certainty.  We will transform night into day.  The canal will save the fleet.  Mark Antony will find in Africa Pinarius Scarpus with untouched loyal legions.  The gladiators are faithful to us.  We can easily make them ours, and my brain is seething with other plans.  But first we will attend to the Alexandrians.  No violence!”