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.

In the dimly lighted atrium of the house near the Paneum garden, she had noticed only that Barine wore something white.  Had it been merely a night robe, so much the better.  But she might have appeared in her present garb at the festival of Isis.  The most careful deliberation could have selected nothing more suitable or becoming.  And did this vain woman go to rest with costly gold ornaments?  Else how did the circlet chance to be on her arm?  Each of Cleopatra’s charms seemed to Iras, who knew them all, like a valuable possession of her own.  To see even the least of them surpassed by another vexed her; and to behold in yonder woman a form which she could not deny was no less beautiful, enraged, nay, pierced her to the heart.

Since she had known that because of Barine she could hope for nothing more from the man to whose love she believed she possessed a claim dating from their childhood, she had hated the young beauty.  And now to the many things which contributed to increase her hostile mood, was added the disagreeable consciousness that during the last few hours she had treated her contemptibly.  Had she only seen earlier what her foe’s cloak concealed, she would have found means to give her a different appearance.  But she must remain as she was; for Chairman had already entered.  Other hours, however, would follow, and if the next did not decide the fate of the woman whom she hated, future ones should.

For this purpose she did not need the aid of Charmian, her uncle Archibius’s sister, who had hitherto been a beloved associate and maternal friend.  But what had happened?  Iras fancied that her pleasant features wore a repellent expression which she had never seen before.  Was this also the singer’s fault?  And what was the cause?

The older woman’s manner decided the question whether she should still bestow upon her returned relative the love of a grateful niece.  No, she would no longer put any restraint upon herself.  Charmian should feel that she (Iras) considered any favour shown to her foe an insult.  To work against her secretly was not in her nature.  She had courage to show an enemy her aversion, and she did not fear Charmian enough to pursue a different course.  She knew that the artist Leonax, Barine’s father, had been Charmian’s lover; but this did not justify her favouring the woman who had robbed her niece of the heart of the man whom she—­as Charmian knew—­had loved from childhood.