The amphitheatre, to which the viceroy, the nomarch, and the foremost officers betook themselves about four in the afternoon was built in the garden of the temple. It was a circular space surrounded by a palisade twice the height of a man. Inside the palisade, and round about, was a multitude of boxes and seats rising one above the other. The structure had no roof, but above the boxes extended cloth of various colors, cut like wings of butterflies, which, sprinkled with fragrant water, were moved to cool the atmosphere. When the viceroy appeared in his box, the Asiatics and Egyptians present in the amphitheatre gave forth a mighty shout. The spectacle began with a procession of singers, dancers, and musicians. The prince looked around. At his right was the box of Hiram and the most noted of the Phœnicians; on his left the box of the Phœnician priests and priestesses. In this Kama occupied one among the first places, and attracted notice by her splendid dress and by her beauty. She wore a transparent robe adorned with embroidery of various colors, gold bracelets and anklets, and on her head a circlet with a lotus flower composed most skilfully of jewels. Kama came with her colleagues, saluted the prince with low obeisances, and returned to the box on the left, where began an animated conversation with a foreigner whose hair was somewhat gray and whose presence was imposing. The hair and beard of this man and his companions were plaited into small braids. The prince had come almost directly from the chamber of his son, and was gladsome. But he frowned when he saw the priestess speaking with a stranger. "Dost thou not know, Tutmosis, who that big fellow is for whom the priestess is so charming?" asked he. "He is that famous pilgrim who has come from Babylon,--the worthy Sargon." "But he is an old grandfather!" "His years are surely more than thine and mine together; but he is a stately person." "Could such a barbarian be stately!" said the indignant viceroy. "I am certain that he bears about the smell of tallow." Both were silent: the prince from anger, Tutmosis from fear because he had dared to praise a man whom Rameses hated. Meanwhile spectacle followed spectacle on the arena. In turn appeared acrobats, serpent-charmers, dancers, buffoons, and jesters, who called forth shouts from the audience. But Rameses was gloomy. In his soul sprang up, moment after moment, passions which had been dormant,--hatred for Assyrians and jealousy of Kama. "How can that woman," thought he, "fondle up to an old man who has a complexion like tanned leather, wild black eyes, and the beard of a he-goat?" But once the prince turned a more attentive look on the arena.