performance--though, since our uncle Antiochus pillaged our wealth, and
since we brothers shared Egypt between us, our processions are not to be
even remotely compared to the triumphs of Roman victors--or, secondly, if
I am allowed to take an active part in the affair."

"On my account, Sire," replied Publius, "no procession need be arranged,
particularly not such a one as I should here be obliged to look on at."

"Well! I still enjoy such things," said Cleopatra's husband.
"Well-arranged groups, and the populace pleased and excited are a sight I
am never tired of."

"As for me," cried Cleopatra, "I often turn hot and cold, and the tears
even spring to my eyes, when the shouting is loudest. A great mass of men
all uniting in a common emotion always has a great effect. A drop, a
grain of sand, a block of stone are insignificant objects, but millions
of them together, forming the sea, the desert or the pyramids, constitute
a sublime whole. One man alone, shouting for joy, is like a madman
escaped from an asylum, but when thousands of men rejoice together it
must have a powerful effect on the coldest heart. How is it that you,
Publius Scipio, in whom a strong will seems to me to have found a
peculiarly happy development, can remain unmoved by a scene in which the
great collective will of a people finds its utterance?"

"Is there then any expression of will, think you," said the Roman, "in
this popular rejoicing? It is just in such circumstances that each man
becomes the involuntary mimic and duplicate of his neighbor; while I love
to make my own way, and to be independent of everything but the laws and
duties laid upon me by the state to which I belong."

"And I," said Euergetes, "from my childhood have always looked on at
processions from the very best places, and so it is that fortune punishes
me now with indifference to them and to everything of the kind; while the
poor miserable devil who can never catch sight of anything more than the
nose or the tip of a hair or the broad back of those who take part in
them, always longs for fresh pageants. As you hear, I need have no
consideration for Publius Scipio in this, willing as I should be to do
so. Now what would you say, Cleopatra, if I myself took a part in my
procession--I say mine, since it is to be in my honor; that really would
be for once something new and amusing."

"More new and amusing than creditable, I think," replied Cleopatra dryly.

"And yet even that o