id the Corinthian. "I will be so solemnly earnest that the most
wrinkled and furrowed graybeard among the censors of your native city
shall seem a Dionysiac dancer compared with me. I will speak like your
Cato when he so bitterly complained that the epicures of Rome paid more
now for a barrel of fresh herrings than for a yoke of oxen. You shall be
perfectly satisfied with me!--But whither am I to conduct Irene? I might
perhaps make use of one of the king's chariots which are passing now by
dozens to carry the guests home."

"I also had thought of that," replied Publius. "Go with the chief of the
Diadoches, whose splendid house was shown to us yesterday. It is on the
way to the Serapeum, and just now at the feast you were talking with him
incessantly. When there, indemnify the driver by the gift of a gold
piece, so that he may not betray us, and do not return here but proceed
to the harbor. I will await you near the little temple of Isis with our
travelling chariot and my own horses, will receive Irene, and conduct her
to some new refuge while you drive back Fuergetes' chariot, and restore
it to the driver."

"That will not satisfy me by any means," said Lysias very gravely; "I was
ready to give up my pomegranate-flower to you yesterday for Irene, but
herself--"

"I want nothing of her," exclaimed Publius annoyed. "But you might--it
seems to me--be rather more zealous in helping me to preserve her from
the misfortune which threatens her through your own blunder. We cannot
bring her here, but I think that I have thought of a safe hiding-place
for her.

"Do you remember Apollodorus, the sculptor, to whom we were recommended
by my father, and his kind and friendly wife who set before us that
capital Chios wine? The man owes me a service, for my father commissioned
him and his assistants to execute the mosaic pavement in the new arcade
he was having built in the capitol; and subsequently, when the envy of
rival artists threatened his life, my father saved him. You yourself
heard him say that he and his were all at my disposal."

"Certainly, certainly," said Lysias. "But say, does it not strike you as
most extraordinary that artists, the very men, that is to say, who beyond
all others devote themselves to ideal aims and efforts, are particularly
ready to yield to the basest impulses; envy, detraction, and--"

"Man!" exclaimed Publius, angrily interrupting the Greek, "can you never
for ten seconds keep on the same subjec