ther children to return to her with the assurance that no harm
should befall them, proved that he made a distinction between them and
his uncle's son, and had no fears that they threatened his own safety.
She might expect important results in their favour from an interview with
Octavianus, so she at last authorized Proculejus to request an audience.

The Imperator's answer came the very same day. It was his place to seek
her--so ran the Caesar's message. This meeting must decide her fate.
Cleopatra was aware of this, and begged Charmian to remember the asp.

Her attendants had been forbidden to leave Lochias, but Epaphroditus
permitted them to receive visitors. The Nubian's merry, amusing talk had
made friends for her among the Roman guards, who allowed her to pass in
and out unmolested. On her return, of course, she was searched with the
utmost care, like every one who entered Lochias.

The decisive hour was close at hand. Charmian knew what she must do in
any event, but there was still one desire for whose fulfilment she
longed. She wished to greet Barine and see her boy.

To spare Iras, she had hitherto refrained from sending for Dion's wife.
The sight of the mother and child might have reopened wounds still
unhealed, and she would not inflict this sorrow upon her niece, who for a
long time had once more been loyally devoted to her.

Octavianus did not hasten to fulfil his assurance. But, at the end of a
week, Proculejus brought the news that he could promise a visit from the
Caesar that afternoon. The Queen was deeply agitated, and desired before
the interview to pay a visit to her tomb. Iras offered to accompany her,
and as Cleopatra intended to remain an hour or longer, Charmian thought
it a favourable opportunity to see Barine and her boy.

Dion's wife had been informed of her friend's wish, and Anukis, who was
to take her to Lochias, did not wait long for the mother and child.

Didymus's garden--now the property of the royal children--was the scene
of the meeting. In the shade of the familiar trees the young mother sank
upon the breast of her faithful friend, and Charmian could not gaze her
fill at the boy, or weary of tracing in his features a resemblance to his
grandfather Leonax.

How much these two women, to whom Fate had allotted lives so widely
different, found to tell each other! The older felt transported to the
past, the younger seemed to have naught save a present rich in blessing
and a future g