for prizing it so highly that
she does not remove it even while she sleeps?"

Again Barine felt as if a thorn had pierced her; but though the
resentment which she had previously experienced once more surged
hotly within her heart, she forced herself to maintain seemly external
composure, and struggled for some word in answer; but she found none
suitable, and remained silent.

She had told the truth. From early youth she had followed the impulses
of her own nature without heeding the opinion of mortals, as the
teachings of the Stoics directed, and she had been allowed to do so
because this nature was pure, truthful, alive to the beautiful, and,
moreover, free from those unbridled, volcanic impulses to which the
Queen alluded. The cheerful patience of her soul had found ample
satisfaction in the cultivation of her art, and in social intercourse
with men who permitted her to share their own intellectual life. Today
she had learned that the first great passion of her heart had met with
a response. Now she was bound to her lover, and knew herself to be pure
and guiltless, far better entitled to demand respect from sterner judges
of morality than the woman who condemned her, or the spiteful Iras, who
had not ceased to offer her love to Dion.

The sorrowful feeling of being misunderstood and unjustly condemned,
mingled with fear of the terrible fate to which she might be sentenced
by the omnipotent sovereign, whose clear intellect was clouded by
jealousy and the resentment of a mother's wounded heart, paralyzed her
tongue. Besides, she was confused by the angry emotion which the sight
of Iras awakened. Twice, thrice she strove to utter a few words of
explanation, defence, but her voice refused to obey her will.

When Charmian at last approached to encourage her, it was too late; the
indignant Queen had turned away, exclaiming to Iras: "let her be taken
back to Lochias. Her guilt is proved; but it does not become the injured
person, the accuser, to award the punishment. This must be left to the
judges before whom we will bring her."

Then Barine once more recovered the power of speech. How dared Cleopatra
assert that she was convicted of a crime, without hearing her defence?

As surely as she felt her own innocence she must succeed in proving
it, and with this consciousness she cried out to the Queen in a tone of
touching entreaty: "O your Majesty, do not leave me without hearing me!
As truly as I believe in your justice