“Think kindly of me, Lady Cornelia,” she said; “I am but a wilful girl with many things to learn.  Perhaps you yourself know that purple robes do not make a light heart.”

“That I know well and sadly.”

“Therefore,” went on the queen, “if I forget myself, and half envy a cup of happiness that seems dashed from my lips, do not be over blameful.”

“Never,” responded the young Roman.

“Time advances,” said the queen; “let us forget that any barriers shut us out from perfect bliss.  Let us call in the Egyptian musicians; and cry out upon me if my looks grow sad!”

Whereat a whole section in the side of the room turned on a pivot, and there entered three native harpers and eight pretty Egyptian girls, in gauzy dresses, who danced in intricate figures, and juggled with balls; now with two, now with three, catching them with their hands crossed.  Boys ran in and out and sprinkled kyphi[174] on the heads of the three feasters, and flung huge wreaths of flowers round their necks, and thrust lotus flowers in their hair.  And all the time the girls sang sweetly.

  [174] A mixture of myrrh, frankincense, and other aromatic materials.

The queen kept her guests very late.

“We of Alexandria,” said she, “make little difference between night and day.  Our city is a new Sybaris.”

And all through the evening Cleopatra kept close to Cornelia, often with her hand upon her, as though extremely loath to let her go.  At last the moon crept up into the heavens, and as the queen and her guests roved out of the heated banqueting hall into the cool gardens, the pale yellow light gently bathed the sweep of the city, which lay in full view of the palace terrace.

“All sleep,” said Cleopatra, “all but ourselves.  Let there be one more song, and then farewell!—­but soon to meet again.”

The chorus of maidens, which followed them, sang, in Greek, the hymn of Onomacritus:[175]—­

  [175] Elton, translator.

  “Heavenly Selene! goddess queen! that shed’st abroad the light! 
  Bull-horned moon! air-habiting! thou wanderer through the night! 
  Moon bearer of mighty torch! thou star-encircled maid! 
  Woman thou, yet male the same, still fresh and undecayed! 
  Thou that in thy steeds delightest, as they travel through the sky,
  Clothed in brightness! mighty mother of the rapid years that fly;
  Fruit dispenser! amber-visaged! melancholy, yet serene! 
  All beholding! sleep-enamour’d! still with trooping planets seen! 
  Quiet loving; who in pleasance and in plenty tak’st delight;
  Joy diffusing!  Fruit maturing!  Sparkling ornament of night! 
  Swiftly pacing! ample-vested! star-bright! all divining maid! 
  Come benignant! come spontaneous! with starry sheen arrayed! 
  Sweetly shining! save us virgin, give thy holy suppliants aid!”

“Yes,” said Cleopatra, passing her hand over her brow, “give us aid, either thou, O moon, or some other power, for we are full weak ourselves.”