Archibius valued this loyalty highly, but he knew what awaited any one who became the object of her hatred, and the fear that it would involve Barine in urgent peril was added to his still greater anxiety for Cleopatra.

When about to depart, burdened by the sorrowful conviction that he was powerless against his niece’s malevolent purpose, he was detained by the representation that every fresh piece of intelligence would first reach the Sebasteum and her.  Some question might easily arise which his calm, prudent mind could decide far better than hers, whose troubled condition resembled a shallow pool disturbed by stones flung into the waves.

The apartments of his sister Charmian, which were connected with his by a corridor, were empty, and Iras begged him to remain there a short time.  The anxiety and dread that oppressed her heart would kill her.  To know that he was near would be the greatest comfort.

When Archibius hesitated because he deemed it his duty to urge Caesarion, over whom he possessed some influence, to give up his foolish wishes for his mother’s sake, Iras assured him that he would not find the youth.  He had gone hunting with Antyllus and some other friends.  She had approved the plan, because it removed him from the city and Barine’s dangerous house.

“As the Queen does not wish him to know the terrible news yet,” she concluded, “his presence would only have caused us embarrassment.  So stay, and when it grows dark go with us to the Lochias.  I think it will please the sorrowing woman, when she lands, to see your familiar face, which will remind her of happier days.  Do me the favour to stay.”  She held out both hands beseechingly as she spoke, and Archibius consented.

A repast was served, and he shared it with his niece; but Iras did not touch the carefully chosen viands, and Archibius barely tasted them.  Then, without waiting for dessert, he rose to go to his sister’s apartments.  But Iras urged him to rest on the divan in the adjoining room, and he yielded.  Yet, spite of the softness of the pillows and his great need of sleep, he could not find it; anxiety kept him awake, and through the curtain which divided the room in which Iras remained from the one he occupied he sometimes heard her light footsteps pacing restlessly to and fro, sometimes the coming and going of messengers in quest of news.

All his former life passed before his mind.  Cleopatra had been his sun, and now black clouds were rising which would dim its light, perchance forever.  He, the disciple of Epicurus, who had not followed the doctrines of other masters until later in life, held the same view of the gods as his first master.  To him also they had seemed immortal beings sufficient unto themselves, dwelling free from anxiety in blissful peace, to whom mortals must look upward on account of their supreme grandeur, but who neither troubled themselves about the guidance of the world, which was fixed by eternal laws, nor the fate of individuals.  Had he been convinced of the contrary, he would have sacrificed everything he possessed in order, by lavish offerings, to propitiate the immortals in behalf of her to whom he had devoted his life and every faculty of his being.