Chariot after chariot hurried out of the great gate of the king's palace and into the city, now sunk in slumber.

All was still in the great banqueting-hall, and dark-hued slaves began with brooms and sponges to clean the mosaic pavement, which was strewed with rose leaves and with those that had fallen from the faded garlands of ivy and poplar; while here and there the spilt wine shone with a dark gleam in the dim light of the few lamps that had not been extinguished.
A young flute-player, overcome with sleep and wine, still sat in one corner.

The poplar wreath that had crowned his curls had slipped over his pretty face, but even in sleep he still held his flute clasped fast in his fingers.

The servants let him sleep on, and bustled about without noticing him; only an overseer pointed to him, and said laughing: "His companions went home no more sober than that one.

He is a pretty boy, and pretty Chloes lover besides--she will look for him in vain this morning." "And to-morrow too perhaps," answered another; "for if the fat king sees her, poor Damon will have seen the last of her." But the fat king, as Euergetes was called by the Alexandrians, and, following their example, by all the rest of Egypt, was not just then thinking of Chloe, nor of any such person; he was in the bath attached to his splendidly fitted residence.