ed by so many
distinguished men of mature years. Yet his beaming, expressive eyes must
have revealed his feelings to her. Doubtless his glances had not been
unobserved, for only a few hours before an Egyptian woman had stopped
him at the temple of his father, Caesar, to which, according to the
fixed rules governing the routine of his life, he went daily at a
certain hour to pray, to offer sacrifices, to anoint the stone of the
altar, or to crown the statue of the departed emperor.

Caesarion had instantly recognized her as the female slave whom he had
seen in Barine's atrium, and ordered his train to fall back.

Fortunately his tutor, Rhodon, had not fulfilled his duty of
accompanying him. So the youth had ventured to follow the slave woman,
and in the shadow of the mimosas, in the little grove beside the temple,
he found Barine's litter. His heart throbbed violently as, full of
anxious expectation, he obeyed her signal to draw nearer. Still, she had
granted him nothing save the favour of gratifying one of her wishes.
But his heart had swelled almost to bursting when, resting her beautiful
white arm on the door of her litter, she had told him that unjust men
were striving to rob her grandfather Didymus of his garden, and she
expected him, who bore the title of the "King of kings" to do his best
to prevent such a crime.

It had been difficult for him to grasp her meaning while she was
speaking. There was a roaring sound in his ears as if, instead of being
in the silent temple grove, he was standing on a stormy day upon the
surf-beaten promontory of Lochias. He had not ventured to raise his eyes
and look into her face. Not until she closed with the question whether
she might hope for his assistance did her gaze constrain him to glance
up. Ah, what had he not fancied he read in her imploring blue eyes! how
unspeakably beautiful she had appeared!

He had stood before her as if bereft of his senses. His sole knowledge
was that he had promised, with his hand on his heart, to do everything
in his power to prevent what threatened to cause her pain. Then her
little hand, with its sparkling rings, was again stretched towards
him, and he had resolved to kiss it; but while he glanced around at his
train, she had already waved him a farewell, and the litter was borne
away.

He stood motionless, like the figure of a man on one of his mother's
ancient vases, staring in bewilderment after the flying figure of
Happiness, whom he m