e would say; 'Ah! let me be--I tremble at
the man'--or ask: 'Would it not be better that I should remain as I am
and not yield to your temptations and to Aphrodite's power?' Oh! Hebe is
exquisite, and you, O Queen! must represent her!"

"I!" exclaimed Cleopatra. "But you said her eyes were cast down."

"That is from modesty and timidity, and her gait must also be bashful and
maidenly. Her long robe falls to her feet in simple folds, while Peitho
holds hers up saucily, between her forefinger and thumb, as if stealthily
dancing with triumph over her recent victory. Indeed the figure of Peitho
would become you admirably."

"I think I will represent Peitho," said the queen interrupting the
Corinthian. "Hebe is but a bud, an unopened blossom, while I am a mother,
and I flatter myself I am something of a philosopher--"

"And can with justice assure yourself," interrupted Aristarchus, "that
with every charm of youth you also possess the characters attributed to
Peitho, the goddess, who can work her spells not only on the heart but on
the intellect also. The maiden bud is as sweet to look upon as the rose,
but he who loves not merely color but perfume too--I mean refreshment,
emotion and edification of spirit--must turn to the full-blown flower; as
the rose--growers of lake Moeris twine only the buds of their favorite
flower into wreaths and bunches, but cannot use them for extracting the
oil of imperishable fragrance; for that they need the expanded blossom.
Represent Peitho, my Queen! the goddess herself might be proud of such a
representative."

"And if she were so indeed," cried Cleopatra, "how happy am I to hear
such words from the lips of Aristarchus. It is settled--I play Peitho. My
companion Zoe may take the part of Artemis, and her grave sister that of
Pallas Athene. For the mother's part we have several matrons to choose
from; the eldest daughter of Epitropes appears to me fitted for the part
of Aphrodite; she is wonderfully lovely."

"Is she stupid too?" asked Euergetes. "That is also an attribute of the
ever-smiling Cypria."

"Enough so, I think, for our purpose," laughed Cleopatra. "But where are
we to find such a Hebe as you have described, Lysias? The daughter of
Alimes the Arabarch is a charming child."

"But she is brown, as brown as this excellent wine, and too thoroughly
Egyptian," said the high-steward, who superintended the young Macedonian
cup-bearers; he bowed deeply as he spoke, and modestly drew