“Let me train them to be human beings,” replied Archibius gravely, “and preserve them from the desire to enter the lists with the gods.  From the simple Cleopatra in the garden of Epicurus, who was a delight to the good and wise, you became the new Isis, to whom the multitude raised hearts, eyes, and hands, dazzled and blinded.  We will transfer the twins, Helios and Selene, the sun and the moon, from heaven to earth; they must become mortals—­Greeks.  I will not transplant them to the garden of Epicurus, but to another, where the air is more bracing.  The inscription on its portals shall not be, ‘Here pleasure is the chief good,’ but ’This is an arena for character.’  He who leaves this garden shall not owe to it the yearning for happiness and comfort, but an immovably steadfast moral discipline.  Your children, like yourself, were born in the East, which loves what is monstrous, superhuman, exaggerated.  If you entrust them to me, they must learn to govern themselves.  At the helm stands moral earnestness, which, however, does not exclude the joyous cheerfulness natural to our people; the sails will be trimmed by moderation, the noblest quality of the Greek nation.”

“I understand,” Cleopatra interrupted, with drooping head.  “Interwoven with the means of securing the children’s welfare, you set before the mother’s eyes the qualities she has lacked.  I know that long ago you abandoned the teachings of Epicurus and the Stoa, and with an earnest aim before your eyes sought your own paths.  The tempest of life swept me far away from the quiet garden where we sought the purest delight.  Now I have learned to know the perils which threaten those who see the chief good in happiness.  It stands too high for mortals, for in the changeful stir of life it remains unattainable, and yet it is too low an aim for their struggles, for there are worthier objects.  Yet one saying of Epicurus we both believed, and it has always stood us in good stead:  ’Wisdom can obtain no more precious contribution to the happiness of mortal life than the possession of friendship.’”

She held out her hand as she spoke, and while, deeply agitated, he raised it to his lips, she went on:  “You know I am on the eve of the last desperate battle—­if the gods will—­shoulder to shoulder with Antony.  Therefore I shall not be permitted to watch your work of education; yet I will aid it.  When the children question you about their mother, you will be obliged to restrain yourself from saying:  ’Instead of striving for the painless peace of mind, the noble pleasure of Epicurus, which once seemed to her the highest good, she constantly pursued fleeting amusements.  The Oriental recklessly squandered her once noble gifts of intellect and the wealth of her people, yielded to the hasty impulses of her passionate nature.’  But you shall also say to them:  ’Your mother’s heart was full of ardent love, she scorned what was base, strove for the highest goal, and when she fell, preferred death to treachery and disgrace.’”