But he had not crossed the room when Eulaeus rushed in, as pale as death, and calling out to his sovereign: "The murderers have betrayed us; Publius Scipio is alive, and insists on being admitted to speak with you." The king's armed hand fell by his side, and for a moment he gazed blankly into vacancy, but the next instant he had recovered himself, and roared in a voice which filled the room like rolling thunder: "Who dares to hinder the entrance of my friend Publius Cornelius Scipio?
And are you still here, Eulaeus--you scoundrel and you villain! The first case that I, as King of Upper and Lower Egypt, shall open for trial will be that which this man--who is your foe and my friend--proposes to bring against you.

Welcome! most welcome on my birthday, my noble friend!" The last words were addressed to Publius, who now entered the room with stately dignity, and clad in the ample folds of the white toga worn by Romans of high birth.

He held a sealed roll or despatch in his right hand, and, while he bowed respectfully to Cleopatra, he seemed entirely to overlook the hands King Euergetes held out in welcome.

After his first greeting had been disdained by the Roman, Euergetes would not have offered him a second if his life had depended on it.

He crossed his arms with royal dignity, and said: "I am grieved to receive your good wishes the last of all that have been offered me on this happy day." "Then you must have changed your mind," replied Publius, drawing up his slight figure, which was taller than the king's, "You have no lack of docile instruments, and last night you were fully determined to receive my first congratulations in the realm of shades." "My sister," answered Euergetes, shrugging his shoulders, "was only yesterday singing the praises of your uncultured plainness of speech; but to-day it is your pleasure to speak in riddles like an Egyptian oracle." "They cannot, however, be difficult to solve by you and your minions," replied Publius coldly, as he pointed to Eulaeus.