Scipio Nasica,
the Roman.

"Serapion greets Publius Scipio, and acquaints him that Irene, the
younger sister of Klea, the water-bearer, has disappeared from this
temple, and, as Serapion suspects, by the wiles of the epistolographer
Eulaeus, whom we both know, and who seems to have acted under the orders
of King Ptolemy Euergetes. Seek to discover where Irene can be. Save her
if thou canst from her ravishers, and conduct her back to this temple or
deliver her in Memphis into the hands of my sister Leukippa, the wife
of the overseer of the harbor, named Hipparchus, who dwells in the
toll-house. May Serapis preserve thee and thine."

The recluse had just finished his letters when Klea returned to him. The
girl hid them in the folds of the bosom of her robe, said farewell to
her friend, and remained quite grave and collected, while Serapion, with
tears in his eyes, stroked her hair, gave her his parting blessing,
and finally even hung round her neck an amulet for good luck, that
his mother had worn--it was an eye in rock-crystal with a protective
inscription. Then, without any further delay, she set out towards the
temple gate, which, in obedience to the commands of the high priest, was
now locked. The gate-keeper--little Philo's father--sat close by on a
stone bench, keeping guard. In a friendly tone Klea asked him to open
the gate; but the anxious official would not immediately comply with
her request, but reminded her of Asclepiodorus' strict injunctions, and
informed her that the great Roman had demanded admission to the temple
about three hours since, but had been refused by the high-priest's
special orders. He had asked too for her, and had promised to return on
the morrow.

The hot blood flew to Klea's face and eyes as she heard this news. Could
Publius no more cease to think of her than she of him? Had Serapion
guessed rightly? "The darts of Eros"--the recluse's phrase flashed
through her mind, and struck her heart as if it were itself a winged
arrow; it frightened her and yet she liked it, but only for one brief
instant, for the utmost distrust of her own weakness came over her
again directly, and she told herself with a shudder that she was on the
high-road to follow up and seek out the importunate stranger.

All the horrors of her undertaking stood vividly before her, and if she
had now retraced her steps she would not have been without an excuse to
offer to her own conscience, since the temple-gate was clo