Then, turning to the Queen, who had accompanied him, he continued in a tone of apology:  “This amusement might seem somewhat hazardous, yet there is much to be said in its favour.  Besides, it appeared to afford the royal children so much pleasure that I permitted it for a short time.  But if your Majesty commands: 

“Let them have their pleasure,” the Queen interrupted kindly; and as soon as the children saw their mother they rushed forward, crowded around her with fearless love, thanked her, and eagerly assured her that nothing in the whole garden was half so dear to them as their little house.  They meant to build a stable too.

“That might be too much,” said the tutor Euphronion, a grey-haired man with a shrewd, kindly face.  “We must remember how many things are yet to be learned, that we may reach the goal fixed for your Majesty’s birthday and pass the examination.”

But all the children now joined in the entreaty to be allowed to build the stable too, and it was granted.

When the tutor at last began to lead them away, the royal mother stopped them, asking “Suppose, instead of this garden, I should give you a bit of bare land, such as the peasants till, where, after your lessons, you might dig and build as much as you please?”

Loud shouts of joy from the children answered the question; but the little Median girl, Jotape, said hesitatingly: 

“Could I take my doll too—­only the oldest, Atossa?  She has lost one arm, yet I love her the best.”

“Deprive us of anything you choose!” cried Helios, drawing little Alexander towards him, to show that they, the men, were of the same mind, “only give us some ground and let us build.”

“We will consider whether it can be done,” replied Cleopatra.  “Perhaps, Euphronion, you would be the right person—­But we will discuss the matter at a more quiet hour.”

The tutor withdrew and the children, who followed, looked back, waving their hands and calling to their mother for a long time.

When they had disappeared behind the shrubbery in the garden Charmian exclaimed, “However dark the sky may be, so long as you possess these little ones you can never lack sunshine.”

“If,” replied Cleopatra, gazing pensively at the ground, “with a thought of them another did not blend which makes the gloom become deeper still.  You know the tidings this terrible day has brought?”

“All,” replied Charmian, sighing heavily.

“Then you know the abyss on whose verge we are walking; and to see them—­them also dragged into the yawning gulf by their unhappy mother—­Oh, Charmian, Charmian!”

She sobbed aloud, threw her arms around the neck of her friend and playfellow, and laid her head upon her bosom like a child seeking consolation.  Cleopatra wept for several minutes, and when she again raised her tear-stained face she said softly: 

“That did me good!  O, Charmian! no one needs love as I do.  On your warm heart my own has already grown calmer.”