lls and corridors, the
train reached the first court-yard of the palace, and there ascended
the few steps leading to the broad platform at the entrance-gate which
overlooked the whole Bruchium and the Street of the King, down which the
expected hero would approach.

The distant uproar of the multitude had sounded threatening, but now,
amid the deafening din, they could distinguish every shout of welcome,
every joyous greeting, every expression of delight, surprise, applause,
admiration, and homage, known to the Greek and Egyptian tongues.

Only the centre and end of the procession were visible. The head had
reached the Corner of the Muses, where, concealed by the old trees in
the garden, it moved on between the Temple of Isis and the land owned by
Didymus. The end still extended to the Choma, whence it had started.

All Alexandria seemed to have joined it.

Men large and small, of high and low degree, old and young, the lame and
the crippled, mingled with the throng, sweeping onward among horses and
carriages, carts and beasts of burden, like a mountain torrent dashing
wildly down to the valley. Here a loud shriek rang from an overturned
litter, whose bearers had fallen. Yonder a child thrown to the ground
screamed shrilly, there a dog trodden under the feet of the crowd howled
piteously. So clear and resonant were the shouts of joy that they rose
high above the flutes and tambourines, the cymbals and lutes of the
musicians, who followed the man approaching in the robes of a god.

The head of the procession now passed beyond the Corner of the Muses and
came within view of the platform.

There could be no doubt to whom this ovation was given, for the
returning hero was in the van, high above all the other figures. From
the golden throne borne on the shoulders of twelve black slaves he
waved his long thyrsus in greeting to the exulting multitude. Before the
bacchanalian train which accompanied him, and behind the musicians who
followed, moved two elephants bearing between them, as a light burden,
some unrecognizable object covered with a purple cloth. Now the column
had passed between the pylons through the lofty gateway which separated
the palace from the Street of the King, and stopped opposite to the
platform.

While officials, Scythians, and body-guards of all shades of complexion,
on foot and on horseback, kept back the throng by force where friendly
warning did not avail, Cleopatra saw her lover descend from