ture boys do not suit the distinguished
men whom she receives."

"If the door is always kept open, thieves will enter the house."

"She received only old acquaintances, and the friends whom they
presented. Her house was closed to all others. So there was no trouble
with thieves. But who in Alexandria could venture to refuse admittance
to a son of the Queen?"

"There is a wide difference between quiet admittance and fanning a
passion to madness. Wherever a fire is burning, there has certainly been
a spark to kindle it. You men do not detect such women's work. A glance,
a pressure of the hand, even the light touch of a garment, and the flame
blazes, where such inflammable material lies ready."

"We lament the violence of the conflagration. You are not well disposed
towards Barine."

"I care no more for her than this couch here cares for the statue of
Mercury in the street!" exclaimed Iras, with repellent arrogance. "There
could be no two things in the world more utterly alien than we. Between
the woman whose door stands open, and me, there is nothing in common
save our sex."

"And," replied Archibius reprovingly, "many a beautiful gift which the
gods bestowed upon her as well as upon you. As for the open door, it was
closed yesterday. The thieves of whom you spoke spoiled her pleasure
in granting hospitality. Antyllus forced himself with noisy impetuosity
into her house. This made her dread still more unprecedented conduct in
the future. In a few hours she will be on the way to Irenia. I am glad
for Caesarion's sake, and still more for his mother's, whom we have
wronged by forgetting so long for another."

"To think that we should be forced to do so!" cried Iras
excitedly--"now, at this hour, when every drop of blood, every thought
of this poor brain should belong to the Queen! Yet it could not be
avoided. Cleopatra is returning to us with a heart bleeding from a
hundred wounds, and it is terrible to think that a new arrow must strike
her as soon as she steps upon her native soil. You know how she loves
the boy, who is the living image of the great man with whom she shared
the highest joys of love. When she learns that he, the son of Caesar,
has given his young heart to the cast-off wife of a street orator, a
woman whose home attracted men as ripe dates lure birds, it will be--I
know--like rubbing salt into her fresh wounds. Alas! and the one sorrow
will not be all. Antony, her husband, also found the way to Barin