“Condemned criminals are usually granted, before their end, a favourite dish.  I have no cause to wish Barine anything good; but I would not grudge that.  You, on the contrary, seem to delight in pouring wormwood on her last mouthful.”

“Certainly,” she answered, her eyes sparkling brightly.  “Malice is the purest of pleasures; at least to me, when exercised on this woman.”

The Syrian, with a strange smile, held out his hand, saying:  “Keep your good-will towards me, Iras.”

“Because,” she retorted with a sneer, “evil may follow my enmity.  I think so, too.  I am not especially sensitive concerning myself, but whoever dares”—­here she raised her voice—­“to harm one whom I—­Just listen to the cheers!  How she carries all hearts with her!  Though Fate had made her a beggar, she would still be peerless among women.  She is like the sun.  The clouds which intrude upon her pathway of radiance are consumed and disappear.”

While uttering the last sentence she had turned towards Barine, whose ear the sharp voice again pierced like a thorn, as she commanded her to prepare for the examination.

Almost at the same moment the door, caught by the wind, closed with a loud bang.  The “introducer”—­[Marshal of the court.]—­had opened it, and, after a hasty glance, exclaimed: 

“The audience will not be given in this meeting place for all the winds of heaven!  Her Majesty desires to receive her late visitor in the Hall of Shells.”

With these words he bowed courteously to Barine, and ushered her and her two companions through several corridors and apartments into a well-heated anteroom.

Here even the windows were thoroughly protected from the storm.  Several body-guards and pages belonging to the corps of the “royal boys” stood waiting to receive them.

“This is comfortable.” said Alexas, turning to Iras.  “Was the winter we have just experienced intended to fill us with twofold gratitude for the delights of the mild spring in this blessed room?”

“Perhaps so,” she answered sullenly, and then added in a low tone:  “Here at Lochias the seasons do not follow their usual course.  They change according to the pleasure of the supreme will.  Instead of four, the Egyptians, as you know, have but three; in the palaces on the Nile they are countless.  What is the meaning of this sudden entry of summer?  Winter would have pleased me better.”

The Queen—­Iras knew not why—­had changed her arrangements for Barine’s reception.  This vexed her, and her features assumed a gloomy, threatening expression as the young beauty, casting aside her cloak and kerchief, stood awaiting Cleopatra in a white robe of fine material and perfect fit.  The thick, fair braids, wound simply around her shapely head, gave her an appearance of almost childish youth, and the sight made Iras feel as if she, and Cleopatra also, were outwitted.