BEL AFFRIS. Know then, that I am a novice in the guard of the temple of Ra in Memphis, serving neither Cleopatra nor her brother Ptolemy, but only the high gods. We went a journey to inquire of Ptolemy why he had driven Cleopatra into Syria, and how we of Egypt should deal with the Roman Pompey, newly come to our shores after his defeat by Caesar at Pharsalia. What, think ye, did we learn? Even that Caesar is coming also in hot pursuit of his foe, and that Ptolemy has slain Pompey, whose severed head he holds in readiness to present to the conqueror. (_Sensation among the guardsmen._) Nay, more: we found that Caesar is already come; for we had not made half a day's journey on our way back when we came upon a city rabble flying from his legions, whose landing they had gone out to withstand. BELZANOR. And ye, the temple guard! Did you not withstand these legions? BEL AFFRIS. What man could, that we did. But there came the sound of a trumpet whose voice was as the cursing of a black mountain. Then saw we a moving wall of shields coming towards us. You know how the heart burns when you charge a fortified wall; but how if the fortified wall were to charge _you_? THE PERSIAN (_exulting in having told them so_). Did I not say it? BEL AFFRIS. When the wall came nigh, it changed into a line of men--common fellows enough, with helmets, leather tunics, and breastplates. Every man of them flung his javelin: the one that came my way drove through my shield as through a papyrus--lo there! (_he points to the bandage on his left arm_) and would have gone through my neck had I not stooped. They were charging at the double then, and were upon us with short swords almost as soon as their javelins. When a man is close to you with such a sword, you can do nothing with our weapons: they are all too long. THE PERSIAN. What did you do? BEL AFFRIS. Doubled my fist and smote my Roman on the sharpness of his jaw. He was but mortal after all: he lay down in a stupor; and I took his sword and laid it on. (_Drawing the sword_) Lo! a Roman sword with Roman blood on it! THE GUARDSMEN (_approvingly_). Good! (_They take the sword and hand it round, examining it curiously._) THE PERSIAN. And your men? BEL AFFRIS. Fled. Scattered like sheep. BELZANOR (_furiously_). The cowardly slaves! Leaving the descendants of the gods to be butchered!