RUFIO (from the steps). Peace, ho! (The laughter and chatter
cease abruptly.) Caesar approaches.

THEODOTUS (with much presence of mind). The King permits the
Roman commander to enter!

Caesar, plainly dressed, but, wearing an oak wreath to conceal
his baldness, enters from, the loggia, attended by Britannus, his
secretary, a Briton, about forty, tall, solemn, and already
slightly bald, with a heavy, drooping, hazel-colored moustache
trained so as to lose its ends in a pair of trim whiskers. He
is carefully dressed in blue, with portfolio, inkhorn, and reed
pen at his girdle. His serious air and sense of the importance
of the business in hand is in marked contrast to the kindly
interest of Caesar, who looks at the scene, which is new to him,
with the frank curiosity of a child, and then turns to the King's
chair: Britannus and Rufio posting themselves near the steps at
the other side.

CAESAR (looking at Pothinus and Ptolemy). Which is the King? The
man or the boy?

POTHINUS. I am Pothinus, the guardian of my lord the King.

Caesar (patting Ptolemy kindly on the shoulder). So you are the
King. Dull work at your age, eh? (To Pothinus) your servant,
Pothinus. (He turns away unconcernedly and comes slowly along the
middle of the hall, looking from side to side at the courtiers
until he reaches Achillas.) And this gentleman?