Among them mingled, distinguishable neither by costume nor language, a number of prominent patrons of art in the great Jewish community.  Their principal, the alabarch, was talking eagerly with the philosopher Hegesias and the Rhodian leech Chrysippus; Queen Arsinoe’s favourite, whom at Althea’s instigation she had sent with Proclus to receive the returning traveller.

Sometimes all gazed toward the mouth of the harbour, where the expected ship must soon pass the recently completed masterpiece of Sostratus, the towering lighthouse, still shining in its marble purity.

Soon many Alexandrians also crowded the large platform in front of the Temple of Poseidon, and the very wide marble staircase leading from it to the landing place.

Beneath the bronze statues of the Dioscuri, at the right and left of the topmost step, had also gathered the magnificent figures of the Phebi and the younger men from the wrestling school of Timagetes, with garlands on their curling locks, as well as many younger artists and pupils of the older masters.

The statues of the gods and goddesses of the sea and their lofty pedestals, standing at the sides of the staircase, cast upon the marble steps, gleaming in the radiance of the morning sun, narrow shadows, which attracted the male and female chorus singers, who, also wearing beautiful garlands, had come to greet the expected arrival with solemn chants.

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.