The Egyptian pressed his hand, with an eager “That will serve,” and hastily went out.

Two hours slipped by, and Zminis was still waiting in Caesar’s anteroom.  The Greek, Aristides, shared his fate, the captain hitherto of the armed guard; while Zminis had been the head of the spies, intrusted with communicating written reports to the chief of the night-watch.  The Greek’s noble, soldierly figure looked strikingly fine by the slovenly, lank frame of the tall Egyptian.  They both knew that within an hour or so one would be supreme over the other; but of this they thought it best to say nothing.  Zminis, as was his custom when he wished to assume an appearance of respect which he did not feel, was alternately abject and pressingly confidential; while Aristides calmly accepted his hypocritical servility, and answered it with dignified condescension.  Nor had they any lack of subjects, for their interests were the same, and they both had the satisfaction of reflecting what injury must ensue to public safety through their long and useless detention here.

But when two full hours had elapsed without their being bidden to Caesar’s presence, or taken any notice of by their supporters, Zminis grew wroth, and the Greek frowned in displeasure.  Meanwhile the anteroom was every moment more crowded, and neither chose to give vent to his anger.  Still, when the door to the inner chambers was opened for a moment, and loud laughter and the ring of wine-cups fell on their ears, Aristides shrugged his shoulders, and the Egyptian’s eyes showed an ominous white ring glaring out of his brown face.

Caracalla had meanwhile received the praetorian prefect; he had forgiven him his long delay, when Macrinus, of his own accord, had told him of the wonderful things Serapion had made known to him.  The prefect’s son, too, had been invited to the banquet of Seleukus; and when Caracalla heard from him and others of the splendor of the feast, he had begun to feel hungry.  Even with regard to food, Caesar acted only on the impulse of the moment; and though, in the field, he would, to please his soldiers, be content with a morsel of bread and a little porridge, at home he highly appreciated the pleasures of the table.  Whenever he gave the word, an abundant meal must at once be ready.  It was all the same to him what was kept waiting or postponed, so long as something to his taste was set before him.  Macrinus, indeed, humbly reminded him that the guardians of the peace were awaiting him; but he only waved his hand with contempt, and proceeded to the dining-room, which was soon filled with a large number of guests.  Within a few minutes the first dish was set before his couch, and, as plenty of good stories were told, and an admirable band of flute-playing and singing girls filled up the pauses in the conversation, he enjoyed his meal.  In spite, too, of the warning which Galenus had impressed on his Roman physician, he drank freely of the fine wine which had been brought out for him from the airy lofts of the Serapeum, and those about him were surprised at their master’s unwonted good spirits.