“The priesthood,” said Serapion, “takes sides with all who are unjustly persecuted, and in this case bestows aid the more willingly on account of its great anxiety to guard the Queen from an act which would be difficult to approve.”  As for the fugitives, so far as he could see, only two possibilities were open to them:  Cleopatra would cleave to Mark Antony and go—­would that the immortals might avert it!—­to ruin, or she would sacrifice him and save her throne and life.  In both cases the endangered lovers could soon return uninjured—­the Queen had a merciful heart, and never retained anger long if no guilt existed.

The details of the plan were then settled by Archibius, Anukis, and Berenike, who was with the family of Arius, and the decision was communicated to the architect.  Archibius had maintained the same silence concerning the destination of the fugitives towards the men composing the council and Barine’s mother as to his sister.  With regard to the mission of Timagenes and the political questions which occupied his mind, he gave Charmian only the degree of information necessary to explain the plan she so lovingly promoted; but she had no desire to know more.  On the way home her mind was wholly absorbed by the fear that Cleopatra had missed her services and discovered Barine’s flight.  True, she mentioned the Queen’s desire to place her children in Archibius’s charge, but she could not give him full particulars until she reached her own apartments.

Her absence had not been noticed.  The Regent Mardion had received the procession in the Queen’s name, for Cleopatra had driven into the city, no one knew where.

Charmian entered her apartments with a lighter heart.  Anukis opened the door to them.  She had remained undisturbed, and it was a pleasure to Archibius to give the faithful, clever freedwoman an account of the matter with his own lips.  He could have bestowed no richer reward upon the modest servant, who listened to his words as if they were a revelation.  When she disclaimed the thanks with which he concluded, protesting that she was the person under obligation, the expression was sincere.  Her keen intellect instantly recognized the aristocrat’s manner of addressing an equal or an inferior; and he who, in her eyes, was the first of men, had described the course of events as though she had stood on the same level.  The Queen herself might have been satisfied with the report.

When she left Charmian’s rooms to join the other servants, she told herself that she was an especially favoured mortal; and when a young cook teased her about her head being sunk between her shoulders, she answered, laughing—­“My shoulders have grown so high because I shrug them so often at the fools who jeer at me and yet are not half so happy and grateful.”