like Timon, he cries out at the
ingratitude of mankind that has forsaken him. And there he lies smitten
by a fever of the mind, and thither thou must go at dawn, so wills the
Queen, to cure him of his ills and draw him to her arms; for he will
not see her, nor knows he yet the full measure of his woe. But first
my bidding is to lead thee instantly to Cleopatra, who would ask thy
counsel."

"I come," I answered, rising. "Lead thou on."

And so we passed the palace gates and along the Alabaster Hall, and
presently once again I stood before the door of Cleopatra's chamber, and
once again Charmion left me to warn her of my coming.

Presently she came back and beckoned to me. "Make strong thy heart," she
whispered, "and see that thou dost not betray thyself, for still are the
eyes of Cleopatra keen. Enter!"

"Keen, indeed, must they be to find Harmachis in the learned Olympus!
Had I not willed it, thyself thou hadst not known me, Charmion," I made
answer.

Then I entered that remembered place and listened once more to the plash
of the fountain, the song of the nightingale, and the murmur of the
summer sea. With bowed head and halting gait I came, till at length I
stood before the couch of Cleopatra--that same golden couch on which
she had sat the night she overcame me. Then I gathered my strength, and
looked up. There before me was Cleopatra, glorious as of old, but, oh!
how changed since that night when I saw Antony clasp her in his arms at
Tarsus! Her beauty still clothed her like a garment; the eyes were yet
deep and unfathomable as the blue sea, the face still splendid in its
great loveliness. And yet all was changed. Time, that could not touch
her charms, had stamped upon her presence such a look of weary grief as
may not be written. Passion, beating ever in that fierce heart of hers,
had written his record on her brow, and in her eyes shone the sad lights
of sorrow.

I bowed low before this most royal woman, who once had been my love and
destruction, and yet knew me not.

She looked up wearily, and spoke in her slow, well remembered voice:

"So thou art come at length, Physician. How callest thou
thyself?--Olympus? 'Tis a name of promise, for surely now that the Gods
of Egypt have deserted us, we do need aid from Olympus. Well, thou hast
a learned air, for learning does not with beauty. Strange, too, there is
that about thee which recalls what I know not. Say, Olympus, have we met
before?"

"Never, O Queen