the women I know there is not one to whom fear
is less known than my bold and resolute Klea. The road is a hard one
that you must take, but only cover your poor little heart with a coat
of mail, and venture in all confidence to meet the Roman, who is an
excellent good fellow. No doubt it will be hard to you to crave a boon,
but ought you to shrink from those few steps over sharp stones? Our poor
child is standing on the edge of the abyss; if you do not arrive at the
right time, and speak the right words to the only person who is able to
help in this matter, she will be thrust into the foul bog and sink in
it, because her brave sister was frightened at--herself!"

Klea had cast down her eyes as the anchorite addressed her thus; she
stood for some time frowning at the ground in silence, but at last she
said, with quivering lips and as gloomily as if she were pronouncing a
sentence on herself.

"Then I will ask the Roman to assist me; but how can I get to him?"

"Ah!--now my Klea is her father's daughter once more," answered
Serapion, stretching out both his arms towards her from the little
window of his cell; and then he went on: "I can make the painful path
somewhat smoother for you. My brother Glaucus, who is commander of the
civic guard in the palace, you already know; I will give you a few
words of recommendation to him, and also, to lighten your task, a little
letter to Publius Scipio, which shall contain a short account of the
matter in hand. If Publius wishes to speak with you yourself go to him
and trust him, but still more trust yourself.

"Now go, and when you have once more filled the water-jars come back
to me, and fetch the letters. The sooner you can go the better, for it
would be well that you should leave the path through the desert behind
you before nightfall, for in the dark there are often dangerous tramps
about. You will find a friendly welcome at my sister Leukippa's; she
lives in the toll-house by the great harbor--show her this ring and she
will give you a bed, and, if the gods are merciful, one for Irene too."

"Thank you, father," said Klea, but she said no more, and then left him
with a rapid step.

Serapion looked lovingly after her; then he took two wooden tablets
faced with wax out of his chest, and, with a metal style, he wrote on
one a short letter to his brother, and on the other a longer one to the
Roman, which ran as follows:

"Serapion, the recluse of Serapis, to Publius Cornelius