At each glance, the eye lit on some pleasing bit of sculpture, some delicate curve of architecture.

Statues were everywhere, everywhere colour, everywhere crowds of gayly dressed citizens and foreigners.

Cornelia contrasted the symmetrical streets, all broad, swept, and at right angles--the triumph of the wise architectural planning of Dinocrates--with the dirty, unsightly, and crooked lanes of the City of the Seven Hills, and told herself, as she had told herself often in recent days, that Romans had much yet to learn.
They drove on past the Amphitheatre toward the Egyptian quarter of the Rhacotis; and here, at the intersection of the Great Street with the other broad way leading from the "Gate of the Moon" on the harbour to the "Gate of the Sun" on Lake Mareotis, a moving hedge of outriders, cavalrymen, and foot-guards met them.
"The queen coming from the Serapeum," said Cleomenes, drawing rein.
Cornelia saw half-naked Numidian footmen thrusting back the crowd that bustled in the Omphalos--the great square where the two highroads met.
Behind them pushed a squadron of light cavalry in silvered armour and splendid purple and scarlet uniforms.

Then, in the midst of all, moved a chariot drawn by four horses white as snow, the harness resplendent with gold and jewels; at either side ran fan-bearers, waving great masses of bright ostrich plumes; a gaudy parasol swept over the carriage itself.

There were three occupants, whereof two stood: an Egyptian, gaunt and of great height, clad in plain white linen, who was driving, and a handsome, gaudily dressed Greek youth, who was holding the parasol.