ble old man, who, after hearing how Antony had
hurried in pursuit of her at Actium, raised his eyes and hands as if
transported with rapture, exclaiming: "Unhappy Queen! Yet happiest of
women! No one was ever so ardently beloved; and when the tale is told
of the noble Trojan who endured such sore sufferings for a woman's
sake, future generations will laud the woman whose resistless spell
constrained the greatest man of his day, the hero of heroes, to cast
aside victory, fame, and the hope of the world's sovereignty, as mere
worthless rubbish."

Posterity, whose verdict she dreaded--this wise old reader of the
future was right--must extol her as the most fervently beloved, the most
desirable of women.

And Mark Antony? Even had the magic power of Nektanebus's goblet forced
him to follow her and to leave the battle, there still remained his
will, a copy of which--received from Rome--Zeno, the Keeper of the Seal,
had showed to her at the close of the council. "Wherever he might die,"
so ran the words, "he desired to be buried by the side of Cleopatra."
Octavianus had wrested it from the Vestal Virgins, to whose care it
had been entrusted, in order to fill the hearts of Roman citizens and
matrons with indignation against his foe. The plot had succeeded, but
the document had reminded Cleopatra that her heart had given this man
the first of its flowers, that love for him had been the sunshine of her
life. So, with head erect, she had crossed the threshold where she
was to meet the woman who had ventured to sow tares in her garden.
She intended to devote only a short time to the interview, which she
anticipated with the satisfaction of the strong who are confident of
victory.

As she approached the throne, her train left the hall; the only persons
who remained were Charmian, Iras, Zeno, the Keeper of the Seal, and the
"introducer."

Cleopatra cast a rapid glance at the throne, to which an obsequious
gesture of the courtier's hand invited her; but she remained standing,
gazing keenly at Barine.

Was it the coloured rays from the ruby eyes of the dragon in the
fireplace which shed the roseate glow on Cleopatra's cheeks? It
certainly enhanced the beauty of a face now only too frequently pallid
and colourless, when rouge did not lend its aid; but Barine understood
Archibius's ardent admiration for this rare woman, when Cleopatra, with
a faint smile, requested her to approach.

Nothing more winning could be imagined than th