ten 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 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