awakened, and Iras hastened to her post.

As she passed Charmian's apartments and saw two handsome soldiers,
belonging to the Macedonian body-guard, pacing to and fro on duty before
them, her face darkened. It was against her alone that Charmian was
protecting Barine. She had been harshly reproved by the older woman on
account of the artist's daughter, who had been the source of so many
incidents which had caused her pain, and Iras regretted that she had
ever confided to her aunt her love for Dion. But, no matter what might
happen, the upas-tree whence emanated all these tortures, anxieties, and
vexations, must be rooted out--stricken from the ranks of the living.

Ere she entered the Queen's anteroom she had mentally pronounced
sentence of death on her enemy. Her inventive brain was now busy in
devising means to induce the Syrian to undertake its execution. If
this stone of offence was removed it would again be possible to live
in harmony with Charmian. Dion would be free, and then, much as he had
wounded her, she would defend him from the hatred of Philostratus and
his brother.

She entered the Queen's presence with a lighter heart. The death of
a condemned person had long since ceased to move her deeply. While
rendering the first services to her mistress, who had been much
refreshed by her sleep, her face grew brighter and brighter; for
Cleopatra voluntarily told her that she was glad to have her attendance,
and not be constantly annoyed by the same disagreeable matter, which
must soon be settled.

In fact, Charmian, conscious that no one else at court would have
ventured to do so, had never grown weary, spite of many a rebuff, of
pleading Barine's cause until, the day before, Cleopatra, in a sudden
fit of anger, had commanded her not to mention the mischief-maker again.

When Charmian soon after requested permission to let Iras take her place
the following day, the Queen already regretted the harsh reproof she
had given her friend, and, while cordially granting the desired leave,
begged her to attribute her angry impatience to the cares which
burdened her. "And when you show me your kind, faithful face again," she
concluded, "you will have remembered that a true friend withholds from
an unhappy woman whom she loves whatever will shadow more deeply her
already clouded life. This Barine's very name sounds like a jeer at the
composure I maintain with so much difficulty. I do not wish to hear it
again."

The wor