s's jests with another. Now she
found--one could see it by watching the speakers--a witty answer to many
of Antony's remarks. It seemed as if, for the first time, she had met
some one for whom she deemed it worth while to bring into the field every
gift of her deep and quick intelligence. Yet she did not lose for a
moment her womanly dignity; her eyes did not sparkle one whit more
brightly than during an animated conversation with me or our father.

"It was very different with Arsinoe. When Antony flung himself from his
horse, she had moved nearer to her sister, but, as the Roman continued to
overlook her, her face crimsoned, she bit her scarlet lips. Her whole
attitude betrayed the agitation that mastered her, and I, who knew her,
saw by the expression of her eyes and her quivering nostrils that she was
on the point of bursting into tears. Though Cleopatra stood so much
nearer to my heart, I felt sorry for her, and longed to touch the arm of
the haughty Roman, who indeed looked like the god of war, and whisper to
him to take some little notice of the poor child, who was also a daughter
of the King.

"But a still harder blow was destined to fall upon Arsinoe; for when the
King, who had been holding both bouquets, warned Antony that it was time
to depart, he took one, and I heard him say in his deep, loud tones,
'Whoever calls such flowers his daughters does not need so many others.'
Then he gave Cleopatra the blossoms and, laying his hand upon his heart,
expressed the hope of seeing her in Alexandria, and swung himself upon
the charger which the chamberlain, pale with fury, was still holding by
the bridle.

"The flute-player was delighted with his oldest daughter, and told my
father he would have the young princess conveyed to the city on the day
after the morrow. The next day he had things to do of which he desired
her to have no knowledge. Our father, in token of his gratitude, should
retain for himself and his heirs the summer palace and the garden. He
would see that the change of owner was entered in the land register. This
was really done that very day. It was, indeed, his first act save
one--the execution of his daughter Berenike.

"This ruler, who would have seemed to any one who beheld his meeting with
his children a warm-hearted man and a tender father, at that time would
have put half Alexandria to the sword, had not Antony interposed. He
forbade the bloodshed, and honoured Berenike's dead husband by a stat