e--love for her
mistress, the desire which dominated her whole being to guard Cleopatra
from grief and trouble in these trying times. He knew Iras's iron will
and the want of consideration with which she had learned to pursue her
purpose at the court. His first object was to protect Barine from the
danger which threatened her; but he also wished to relieve the anxiety
of Iras, the daughter of Krates, his father's neighbour, with whom he
had played in boyhood and for whom he had never ceased to feel a tender
interest.

His remark surprised her. She saw that her plot was detected by the man
whose esteem she most valued, and a loving woman is glad to recognize
the superiority of her lover. Besides, from her earliest childhood--and
she was only two years younger than Dion--she had belonged to circles
where no quality was more highly prized than mental pliancy and
keenness. Her dark eyes, which at first had glittered distrustfully and
questioningly and afterwards glowed with a gloomy light, now gained a
new expression. Her gaze sought her friend's with a tender, pleading
look as, admitting his charge, she began: "Yes! Dion, the philosopher's
granddaughter must not stay here. Or do you see any other way to protect
the unhappy boy from incalculable misfortune? You know me well enough
to be aware that, like you, I am reluctant to infringe another's rights,
that except in case of necessity I am not cruel. I value your esteem. No
one is more truthful, and yesterday you averred that Eros had no part in
your visits to the much-admired young woman, that you joined her guests
merely because the society you found at her house afforded a pleasant
stimulus to the mind. I have ceased to believe in many things, but not
in you and your words, and if hearing that you had taken sides with the
grandfather, I fancied that you were secretly seeking the thanks and
gratitude of the granddaughter, why--surely the atrocious maxim that
Zeus does not hear the vows of lovers comes from you men--why, suspicion
again reared its head. Now you seem to share my opinion--"

"Like you," Dion interrupted, "I believe that Barine ought to be
withdrawn from the boy's pursuit, which cannot be more unpleasant to
you than to her. As Caesarion neither can nor ought to leave Alexandria
while affairs are so threatening, nothing is left except to remove the
young woman--but, of course, in all kindness."

"In a golden chariot, garlanded with roses, if you so desire,"