The Princess Helena, richly attired, with pearls in her hair, sits in an arm-chair, and looks out of the window. Her slave, Myrrha, stands opposite her, and holds the curtain aside.
The Princess Helena.
What a multitude! The whole city streams out to meet them.—Hark! Myrrha,—do you not hear flutes and drums?
Myrrha.
Yes, I think I can hear——
Helena.
You lie! The noise is too great; you can hear nothing. [Springing up.] Oh, this torturing uncertainty! Not to know whether he comes as a conqueror or as a fugitive.
Myrrha.
Fear not, my noble mistress; Caesar has always returned a conqueror.
Helena.