The Emperor — Complete. Georg Ebers

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CHAPTER V.

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      Pontius had gone to the steward’s room, with a frowning brow, but it was with a smile on his strongly-marked lips, and a brisk step that he returned to his work-people. The foreman came to meet him with looks of enquiry as he said. “The steward was a little offended and with reason; but now we are capital friends and he will do what he can in the matter of lighting.”

      In the hall of the Muses he paused outside the screen, behind which Pollux was working, and called out:

      “Friend sculptor, listen to me, it is high time to have supper.”

      “It is, indeed,” replied Pollux, “else it will be breakfast.”

      “Then lay aside your tools for a quarter of an hour and help me and the palace-steward to demolish the food that has been sent me.”

      “You will need no second assistant if Keraunus is there. Food melts before him like ice before the sun.”

      “Then come and save him from an overloaded stomach.”

      “Impossible, for I am just now dealing most unmercifully with a bowl full of cabbage and sausages. My mother had cooked that food of the gods and my father has brought it in to his first-born son.”

      “Cabbage and sausages!” repeated the architect, and its tone betrayed that his hungry stomach would fain have made closer acquaintance with the savory mess.

      “Come in here,” continued Pollux, “and be my guest. The cabbage has experienced the process which is impending over this palace—it has been warmed up.”

      “Warmed-up cabbage is better than freshly-cooked, but the fire over which we must try to make this palace enjoyable again, burns too hotly and must be too vigorously stirred. The best things have been all taken out, and cannot be replaced.”

      “Like the sausages, I have fished out of my cabbages,” laughed the sculptor. “After all I cannot invite you to be my guest, for it would be a compliment to this dish if I were now to call it cabbage with sausages. I have worked it like a mine, and now that the vein of sausages is nearly exhausted, little remains but the native soil in which two or three miserable fragments remain as memorials of past wealth. But my mother shall cook you a mess of it before long, and she prepares it with incomparable skill.”

      “A good idea, but you are my guest.”

      “I am replete.”

      “Then come and spice our meal with your good company.”

      “Excuse me, sir; leave me rather here behind my screen. In the first place, I am in a happy vein, and on the right track; I feel that something good will come of this night’s work.”

      “And tomorrow—”

      “Hear me out.”

      “Well.”

      “You would be doing your other guest an ill-service by inviting me.”

      “Do you know the steward then?”

      “From my earliest youth, I am the son of the gatekeeper of the palace.”

      “Oh, ho! then you came from that pretty little lodge with the ivy and the birds, and the jolly old lady.”

      “She is my mother—and the first time the butcher kills she will concoct for you and me a dish of sausages and cabbage without an equal.”

      “A very pleasing prospect.”

      “Here comes a hippopotamus—on closer inspection Keraunus, the steward.”

      “Are you his enemy?”

      “I, no; but he is mine—yes,” replied Pollux. “It is a foolish story. When we sup together don’t ask me about it if you care to have a jolly companion And do not tell Keraunus that I am here, it will lead to no good.”

      “As you wish, and here are our lamps too.”

      “Enough to light the nether world,” exclaimed Pollux, and waving his hand to the architect in farewell he vanished behind the screens to devote himself entirely to his model.

      It was long past midnight, and the slaves who had set to work with much zeal had finished their labors in the hall of the Muses. They were now allowed to rest for some hours on straw that had been spread for them in another wing of the building. The architect himself wished to take advantage of this time to refresh himself by a short sleep, for the exertions of the morrow, but between this intention and its fulfilment an obstacle was interposed, the preposterous dimensions namely of his guest. He had invited the steward on purpose to give him his fill of meat, and Keraunus had shown himself amenable to encouragement in this respect. But after the last dish bad been removed the steward thought that good manners demanded that he should honor his entertainer by his illustrious presence, and at the same time the prefect’s good wine loosened the tongue of the man, who was not usually communicative.

      First he spoke of the manifold infirmities which tormented him and endangered his life, and when Pontius, to divert his talk into other channels, was so imprudent as to allude to the Council of Citizens, Keraunus gave full play to his eloquence, and, while he emptied cup after cup of wine, tried to lay down the reasons which had made him and his friends decide on staking everything in order to deprive the members of the extensive community of Jews in the city of their rights as citizens, and to expel them, if possible, from Alexandria. So warm was his zeal that he totally forgot the presence of the architect, and his humble origin, and declared to be indispensable, that even the descendants of freed-slaves should be disenfranchised.

      Pontius saw in the steward’s inflamed eyes and cheeks that it was the wine which spoke within him, and he made no answer; and determined that the rest he needed should not be thus abridged, he rose from table and briefly excusing himself he retired to the room in which the couch had been prepared for him. After he had undressed he desired his slave to see what Keraunus was about, and soon received the reassuring information that the steward was fast asleep and snoring.

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