Euphranor and his granddaughter followed.  Though his head was bowed, he crossed the little garden with a swift, firm tread, and, without noticing the questions and warnings of his companions, walked at once to the impluvium.  The bright light dazzled his weakened eyes, and his habit of gazing into vacancy or on the ground compelled him to glance from side to side for some time, ere he could accustom himself to it.  Apollonius approached, greeted him respectfully, and assured him that he deeply regretted having interrupted him in the work for which the whole world was waiting, but he had come on important business.

“I know, I know,” the old scholar answered with a smile of superiority.  “What is all this ado about?”

As he spoke he looked around the group of spectators, among whom he knew no one except Apollonius, who had charge of the museum accounts, and the architect, for whom he had composed the inscription on the Odeum, which he had recently built.  But when his eyes met only unfamiliar faces, the confidence which hitherto had sustained him began to waver, though still convinced that a demand such as the philosopher suggested could not possibly be made upon him, he continued:  “It is stated that there is a plan for turning my garden into a public square.  And for what purpose?  To erect a piece of sculpture.  But there can be nothing serious in the rumour, for my property is recorded in the land register, and the law—­”

“Pardon me,” Apollonius broke in, “if I interrupt you.  We know the ordinance to which you refer, but this case is an exceptional one.  The Regent desires to take nothing from you.  On the contrary, he offers, in the name of the Queen, any compensation you yourself may fix for the piece of land which is to be honoured by the statues of the highest personages in the country—­Cleopatra and Antony, hand in hand.  The piece of sculpture has already been brought here.  A work by the admirable artist Lysander, who passed too early to the nether world, certainly will not disfigure your house.  The little summer-house by the sea must be removed to-morrow, it is true; you know that our gracious Queen may return any day-victorious if the immortals are just.  This piece of sculpture, which is created in her honour, to afford her pleasure, must greet her on her arrival, so the Regent send me to-day to communicate his wish, which, as he represents the Queen—­”

“Yet,” interrupted the architect, who had again warmly assured the old man’s granddaughter of his aid, “yet your friends will endeavour to persuade the Regent to find another place for the statues.”

“They are at liberty to do so,” said the officer.  “What will happen later the future will show.  My office merely requires me to induce the worthy owner of this house and garden to submit to-day to the Queen’s command, which the Regent and my own heart bid me clothe in the form of a request.”