Alexander listened calmly; but when Zminis ceased speaking, the artist took a deep breath, drew himself up, and pointing a contemptuous finger at the spy, as if his presence poisoned the air, he said:  “It is that fellow’s fault, great Caesar, if the citizens of my native town dare commit such crimes.  He torments and persecutes them in your name.  How many a felony has been committed here, merely to scoff at him and his creatures, and to keep them on the alert!  We are a light-headed race.  Like children, we love to do the forbidden thing, so long as it is no stain on our honor.  But that wretch treats all laughter and the most innocent fun as a crime, or so interprets it that it seems so.  From this malignant delight in the woes of others, and in the hope of rising higher in office, that wicked man has brought misery on hundreds.  It has all been done in thy great name, O Caesar!  No man has raised you up more foes than this wretch, who undermines your security instead of protecting it.”

Here Zminis, whose swarthy face had become of ashy paleness, broke out in a hoarse tone:  “I will teach you, and the whole rabble of traitors at your back—­”

But Caesar wrathfully commanded him to be silent, and Alexander quietly went on:  “You can threaten, and you will array all your slanderous arts against us, I know you.  But here sits a sovereign who protects the innocent—­and I and mine are innocent.  He will set his heel on your head when he knows you—­the curse of this city—­for the adder that you are!  He is deceiving you now in small things, great Caesar, and later he will deceive you in greater ones.  Listen now how he has lied to you.  He says he discovered a caricature of your illustrious person in the guise of a soldier.  Why, then, did he not bring it away from the place where it could only excite disaffection, and might even mislead those who should see it into the belief that your noble person was that of a dwarf?  The answer is self-evident.  He left it to betray others into further mockery, to bring them to ruin.”

Caesar had listened with approval, and now sternly asked the Egyptian: 

“Did you see the image?”

“In the Elephant tavern!” yelled the man.

But Alexander shook his head doubtfully, and begged permission to ask the Egyptian a question.  This was granted, and the artist inquired whether the soldier stood alone.

“So far as I remember, yes,” replied Zminis, almost beside himself.

“Then your memory is as false as your soul!” Alexander shouted in his face, “for there was another figure by the soldier’s side.  The clay, still wet, clung to the same board as the figure of the soldier, modeled by the same hand.  No, no, my crafty fellow, you will not catch the workman; for, being warned, he is already on the high-seas.”

“It is false!” shrieked Zminis.

“That remains to be proved,” said Alexander, scornfully.—­“Allow me now, great Caesar, to show you the figures.  They have been brought by my orders, and are in the anteroom-carefully covered up, of course, for the fewer the persons who see them the better.”