Several actors were just coming from rehearsal in the theatre of Dionysus, east of the Temple of Poseidon, of which, like all the stages in the city, Proclus was chief manager.

A pretty dancing girl, who hung on the arm of the youngest, extended her hand with a graceful gesture toward the staircase, and asked: 

“Whom can they be expecting there?  Probably some huge new animal for the Museum which has been caught somewhere for the King, for yonder stiff wearer of a laurel crown, who throws his head back as though he would like to eat the Olympians and take the King for a luncheon into the bargain, is Straton, the denier of the gods, and the little man with the bullethead is the grammarian Zoilus.”

“Of course,” replied her companion.  “But there, too, is Apollodorus, the alabarch of the Jews, and the heavy money-bag Archias—­”

“Why look at them!” cried the younger mime.  “It’s far better worth while to stretch your neck for those farther in front.  They are genuine friends of the Muses—­the poets Theocritus and Zenodotus.”

“The great Athene, Apollo, and all his nine Pierides, have sent their envoys,” said the older actor pathetically, “for there, too, are the sculptors Euphranor and Chares, and the godlike builder of the lighthouse, Sostratus in person.”

“A handsome man,” cried the girl flute-player, “but vain, I tell you, vain—­”

“Self-conscious, you ought to say,” corrected her companion.

“Certainly,” added the older actor, patting his smooth cheeks and chin with a rose he held in his hand.  Who can defend himself against the highest merit, self-knowledge?  But the person who is to have this reception, by the staff of Dionysus! if modesty flies away from him like the bird from a girl, it ought Just look there!  The tall, broad-shouldered fellow yonder is Chrysippus, the right hand of Arsinoe, as our grammateus Proclus is her left.  So probably some prince is expected.”

“The gentlemen of the Museum and the great artists yonder would not stir a foot, far less lose so precious a morning hour, for any mere wearer of a crown or sceptre,” protested the other actor; “it must be—­”

“That the King or the Queen command it,” interrupted the older player.  “Only Arsinoe is represented here.  Or do you see any envoy of Ptolemy?  Perhaps they will yet arrive.  If there were ambassadors of the great Roman Senate—­”

“Or,” added the dancer, “envoys from King Antiochus.  But—­goose that I am!—­then they would not be received here, but in the royal harbour at the Lochias.  See if I don’t prove to be right!  Divine honours are to be paid to some newly attracted hero of the intellect.  But—­just follow my finger!  There—­yonder—­it comes floating along at the left of the island of Antirrhodus.  That may be his galley!  Magnificent!  Wonderfully beautiful!  Brilliant!  Like a swan!  No, no, like a swimming peacock!  And the silver embroidery on the blue sails!  It glitters and sparkles like stars in the azure sky.”