ill run away, and your father will follow her," replied
Caesarion with a melancholy smile, wholly untinged by scorn. "All is
lost. But conquered kings and queens are permitted to live. Caesar's son
will not be exhibited to the Quirites in the triumphal procession. Rhodon
says that there would be an insurrection if I appeared in the Forum. If I
go there again, it certainly will not be in Octavianus's train. I am not
suited for that kind of ignominy. It would stifle me and, ere I would
grant any man the pleasure of dragging the son of Caesar behind him to
increase his own renown, I would put an end--ten, nay, a hundred times
over, in the good old Roman fashion, to my life, which is by no means
especially attractive. What is sweeter than sound sleep, and who will
disturb and rouse me when Death has lowered his torch before me? But now
I think I shall be spared this extreme. Whatever else they may inflict
upon me will scarcely exceed my powers of endurance. If any one has
learned contentment it is I. The King of kings and Co-Regent of the Great
Queen has been trained persistently, and with excellent success, to be
content. What should I be, and what am I? Yet I do not complain, and wish
to accuse no one. We need not summon Octavianus, and when he is here let
him take what he will if he only spares the lives of my mother, the
twins, and little Alexander, whom I love, and bestows on me the
estate--the main thing is that it must be full of fishponds--of which I
spoke. The private citizen Caesarion, who devotes his time to fishing and
the books he likes to read, will gladly be allowed to choose a wife to
suit his own taste. The more humble her origin, the more easily I shall
win the consent of the Roman guardian."

"Do you know, Caesarion," interrupted Antony's unruly son, leaning back
on the cushions and stretching his feet farther in front of him, "if you
were not the King of kings I should be inclined to call you a base,
mean-natured fellow! One who has the good fortune to be the son of Julius
Caesar ought not to forget it so disgracefully. My gall overflows at your
whimpering. By the dog! It was one of my most senseless pranks to take
you to the singer. I should think there would be other things to occupy
the mind of the King of kings. Besides, Barine cares no more for you than
the last fish you caught. She showed that plainly enough. I say once
more, if Derketaeus's men succeed in capturing the beauty who has robbed
you of