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 meaning while she was speaking.  There was a roaring sound in his ears as if, instead of being in the silent temple grove, he was standing on a stormy day upon the surf-beaten promontory of Lochias.  He had not ventured to raise his eyes and look into her face.  Not until she closed with the question whether she might hope for his assistance did her gaze constrain him to glance up.  Ah, what had he not fancied he read in her imploring blue eyes! how unspeakably beautiful she had appeared!

He had stood before her as if bereft of his senses.  His sole knowledge was that he had promised, with his hand on his heart, to do everything in his power to prevent what threatened to cause her pain.  Then her little hand, with its sparkling rings, was again stretched towards him, and he had resolved to kiss it; but while he glanced around at his train, she had already waved him a farewell, and the litter was borne away.

He stood motionless, like the figure of a man on one of his mother’s ancient vases, staring in bewilderment after the flying figure of Happiness, whom he might easily have caught by her floating locks.  How he raged over the miserable indecision which had defrauded him of so much joy!  Yet nothing was really lost.  If he succeeded in fulfilling her wishes, she could not fail to be grateful; and then—­