“It is late and I do not feel well, and you may sup without me.”

“By the healing Isis!” exclaimed Philometor, going up to her.  “You look suffering.  Shall I send for the physicians?  Is it really nothing more than your usual headache?  The gods be thanked!  But that you should be unwell just to-day!  I had so much to say to you; and the chief thing of all was that we are still a long way from completeness in our preparations for our performance.  If this luckless Hebe were not—­”

“She is in good hands,” interrupted Euergetes.  “The Roman, Publius Scipio, has taken her to a place of safety; perhaps in order to present her to me to morrow morning in return for the horses from Cyrene which I sent him to-day.  How brightly your eyes sparkle, sister—­with joy no doubt at this good idea.  This evening, I dare say he is rehearsing the little one in her part that she may perform it well to-morrow.  If we are mistaken—­if Publius is ungrateful and proposes keeping the dove, then Thais, your pretty Athenian waiting-woman, may play the part of Hebe.  What do you think of that suggestion, Cleopatra?”

“That I forbid such jesting with me!” cried the queen vehemently.  “No one has any consideration for me—­no one pities me, and I suffer fearfully!  Euergetes scorns me—­you, Philometor, would be glad to drag me down!  If only the banquet is not interfered with, and so long as nothing spoils your pleasure!—­Whether I die or no, no one cares!”

With these words the queen burst into tears, and roughly pushed away her husband as he endeavored to soothe her.  At last she dried her eyes, and said:  “Go down-the guests are waiting.”

“Immediately, my love,” replied Philometor.  “But one thing I must tell you, for I know that it will arouse your sympathy.  The Roman read to you the petition for pardon for Philotas, the chief of the Chrematistes and ‘relative of the king,’ which contains such serious charges against Eulaeus.  I was ready with all my heart to grant your wish and to pardon the man who is the father of these miserable water-bearers; but, before having the decree drawn up, I had the lists of the exiles to the gold-mines carefully looked through, and there it was discovered that Philotas and his wife have both been dead more than half a year.  Death has settled this question, and I cannot grant to Publius the first service he has asked of me—­asked with great urgency too.  I am sorry for this, both for his sake and for that of poor Philotas, who was held in high esteem by our mother.”

“May the ravens devour them!” answered Cleopatra, pressing her forehead against the ivory frame which surrounded the stuffed back of her seat.  “Once more I beg of you excuse me from all further speech.”  This time the two kings obeyed her wishes.  When Euergetes offered her his hand she said with downcast eyes, and poking her fan-stick into the wool of the carpet: 

“I will visit you early to-morrow.”