The head of the procession now passed beyond the Corner of the Muses and came within view of the platform.

There could be no doubt to whom this ovation was given, for the returning hero was in the van, high above all the other figures.  From the golden throne borne on the shoulders of twelve black slaves he waved his long thyrsus in greeting to the exulting multitude.  Before the bacchanalian train which accompanied him, and behind the musicians who followed, moved two elephants bearing between them, as a light burden, some unrecognizable object covered with a purple cloth.  Now the column had passed between the pylons through the lofty gateway which separated the palace from the Street of the King, and stopped opposite to the platform.

While officials, Scythians, and body-guards of all shades of complexion, on foot and on horseback, kept back the throng by force where friendly warning did not avail, Cleopatra saw her lover descend from the throne and give a signal to the Indian slave who guided the elephants.  The cloth was flung aside, revealing to the astonished eyes of the spectators a bouquet of flowers such as no Alexandrian had ever beheld.  It consisted entirely of blossoming rose-bushes.  The red flowers formed a circle in the centre, surrounded by a broad light garland of white ones.  The whole gigantic work rested like an egg in its cup in a holder of palm fronds which, as it were, framed it in graceful curving outlines.  More than a thousand blossoms were united in this peerless bouquet, and the singular gigantic gift was characteristic of its giver.

He advanced on foot to the platform, his figure towering above the brown, light-hued, and black freedmen and slaves who followed as, on the monuments of the Pharaohs, the image of the sovereign dominates those of the subjects and foes.

He could look down upon the tallest men, and the width of his shoulders was as remarkable as his colossal height.  A long, gold-broidered purple mantle, floating to his ancles, increased his apparent stature.  Powerful arms, with the swelling muscles of an athlete, were extended from his sleeveless robe towards the beloved Queen.

The well-formed head, thick dark hair, and magnificent beard corresponded with the powerful figure.  Formerly these locks had adorned the head of the youth with the blue-black hue of the raven’s plumage; now the threads of grey scattered abundantly through them were concealed by the aid of dye.  A thick wreath of vine leaves rested on the Imperator’s brow, and leafy vine branches, to which clung several dark bunches of grapes, fell over his broad shoulders and down his back, which was covered like a cloak, not by a leopard-skin, but that of a royal Indian tiger of great size—­he had slain it himself in the arena.  The head and paws of the animal were gold, the eyes two magnificent sparkling sapphires.  The clasp of the chain, by which the skin was suspended, as well as that of the gold belt which circled the Imperator’s body above the hips, was covered with rubies and emeralds.  The wide armlets above his elbows, the ornaments on his broad breast, nay, even his red morocco boots, glittered and flashed with gems.