Cleopatra | Page 9

in the lake region is remote enough, and will be at her
disposal," interrupted the other. "The house is always kept ready for my
reception. I will do my best to persuade her, for your advice is prudent.
She must be withdrawn from the boy's eyes."
"I shall learn the result of your mission tomorrow," cried Dion
eagerly-- "nay, this evening. If she consents, I will tell Iras, as if by
accident, that Barine has gone to Upper Egypt to drink new milk, or
something of that kind. Iras is a shrewd woman, and will be glad if she
can keep aloof from such trifles during the time which will decide the
fate of Cleopatra and of the world."

"My thoughts, too, are always with the army," said Archibius. "How
trivial everything else seems compared with the result which will be
determined in the next few days! But life is made up of trifles. They are
food, drink, maintenance. Should the Queen return triumphant, and find
Caesarion in wrong paths--"
"We must close them against him," exclaimed Dion.
"That the boy may not follow Barine?" asked Archibius, shaking his
head. "I think we need feel no anxiety on that score. He will doubtless
eagerly desire to do so, but with him there is a wide gulf between the
wish and its fulfilment. Antyllus is differently constituted. He would be
quite capable of ordering a horse to be saddled, or the sails of a boat to
be spread in order to pursue her--beyond the Cataract if necessary. So
we must maintain the utmost secrecy concerning the place to which
Barine voluntarily exiles herself."
"But she is not yet on her way," replied Dion with a faint sigh. "She is
bound to this city by many ties."
"I know it," answered Archibius, confirming his companion's fear. The
latter, pointing to the equipage, said in a rapid, earnest tone: "Gorgias is
beckoning. But, before we part, let me beseech you to do everything to
persuade Barine to leave here. She is in serious danger. Conceal
nothing from her, and say that her friends will not leave her too long in
solitude."
Archibius, with a significant glance, shook his finger at the young man
in playful menace, and then went up to the carriage.
Caesarion's clear-cut but pallid face, whose every feature resembled
that of his father, the great Caesar, bent towards them from the opening
above the door, as he greeted both with a formal bend of the head and a
patronizing glance. His eyes had sparkled with boyish glee when he
first caught sight of the friend from whom he had been separated
several weeks, but to the stranger he wished to assume the bearing
which beseemed a king. He desired to make him feel his superior
position, for he was ill- disposed towards him. He had seen him

favoured by the woman whom he imagined he loved, and whose
possession he had been promised by the secret science of the Egyptians,
whose power to unveil the mysteries of the future he firmly believed.
Antyllus, Antony's son, had taken him to Barine, and she had received
him with the consideration due his rank. Spite of her bright
graciousness, boyish timidity had hitherto prevented any word of love
to the young beauty whom he saw surrounded 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