Artemisia, who was charmed with her present surroundings and adulation, demurred at leaving her entertainers; but Agias was imperative, and the others realized well enough that there was not much time to be lost. Agias, however, waited until it had become tolerably dark before starting. Meantime, he proceeded to make certain changes of his own and Artemisia's costume that indicated the rather serious character of the risk he was preparing to run. For himself he put on a very full and flowing crimson evening dress, as if he were proceeding to a dinner-party; he piled a dozen odd rings upon his fingers, and laughingly asked Semiramis to arrange his hair for him in the most fashionable style, and anoint it heavily with Valeria's most pungent perfumes. At the same time, Arsinoë was quite transforming Artemisia. Valeria's cosmetic vials were for once put into play for a purpose, and when Artemisia reappeared from the dressing-room after her treatment, Agias saw before him no longer a fair-skinned little Greek, but a small, slender, but certainly very handsome Egyptian serving-lad, with bronzed skin, conspicuous carmine lips, and features that Arsinoë's paint and pencils had coarsened and exaggerated. Fortunately, the classic costume both for men and women was so essentially alike, that Artemisia did not have to undergo that mortification from a change of clothes which might have befallen one at the present day in a like predicament. Her not very long black hair was loose, and shaken over her shoulders. Agias had brought for her a short, variegated lacerna[132] which answered well enough as the habit of a boy-valet who was on good terms with his master.
"Eho!" cried Agias, when he had witnessed the transformation, "we must hasten or Valeria will be anxious to keep you as her serving-boy! Ah, I forgot she is going with her dear Pratinas to Egypt. Now, Arsinoë, and you, Semiramis, I shall not forget the good turn you have done me; don't let Valeria miss her unguents and ask questions that might prove disagreeable. Farewell, Iasus and Pisander; we shall soon meet again, the gods willing."
The friends took leave of Artemisia; the slave-women kissed her; Pisander, presuming on his age, kissed her, albeit very sheepishly, as though he feared the ghosts of all the Stoics would see him. Iasus cast an angry jealous glance at the philosopher; he contented himself with a mere shake of the hand.
Agias swung Artemisia into the gig and touched the lash to the swift mules.
"Good-by, dear friends!" she cried, her merry Greek smile shining out through her bronze disguise.
The gig rolled down the street, Agias glancing to right and left to see that no inquisitive eye followed them.
"Oh! Agias," cried the girl, "am I at last going away with you? Going away all alone, with only you to take care of me? I feel—I feel queerly!"
Agias only touched the mules again, and laughed and squeezed Artemisia's hand, then more gravely said:—
"Now, makaira, you must do everything as I say, or we shall never get away from Pratinas. Remember, if I tell you to do anything you must do it instantly; and, above everything else, no matter what happens, speak not a word; don't scream or cry or utter a sound. If anybody questions us I shall say that I am a gentleman driving out to the suburbs to enjoy a late party at a friend's villa, and you are my valet, who is a mute, whom it is useless to question because he cannot answer. Do you understand?"
Artemisia nodded her little head, and bit her pretty lips very hard to keep from speaking. The fear of Pratinas made her all obedience.