h insulting attentions,
was the source of almost equal trouble. Berenike often gazed in
silent astonishment at the child, who, spite of such sore grief and
humiliation, had preserved the innocent light-heartedness which made her
seem as if life had offered her only thornless roses.
Her father, Leonax, had been one of the most distinguished artists
of the day, and Barine had inherited from him the elastic artist
temperament which speedily rebounds from the heaviest pressure. To him
also she owed the rare gift of song, which had been carefully cultivated
and had already secured her the first position in the woman's chorus at
the festival of the great goddesses of the city. Every one was full of
her praises, and after she had sung the Yalemos in the palace over the
waxen image of the favourite of the gods, slain by the boar, her name
was eagerly applauded. To have heard her was esteemed a privilege, for
she sang only in her own house or at religious ceremonials "for the
honour of the gods."
The Queen, too, had heard her, and, after the Adonis festival, her uncle
Arius had presented her to Antony, who expressed his admiration with
all the fervour of his frank nature, and afterwards came to her house
a second time, accompanied by his son Antyllus. Doubtless he would have
called on her frequently and tested upon her heart his peculiar power
over women, had he not been compelled to leave the city on the day after
his last visit.
Berenike had reproved her brother for bringing the Queen's lover to
Barine, for her anxiety was increased by the repeated visits of Antony's
son, and still more aroused by that of Caesarion, who was presented by
Antyllus.
These youths were not numbered among the guests whose presence she
welcomed and whose conversation afforded her pleasure. It was flattering
that they should honour her simple home by their visits, but she knew
that Caesarion came without his tutor's knowledge, and perceived, by
the expression of his eyes, what drew him to her daughter. Besides,
Berenike, in rearing the two children, who had been the source of so
much anxiety had lost the joyous confidence which had characterized her
own youth. Whenever life presented any new phase, she saw the dark
side first. If a burning candle stood before her, the shadow of the
candlestick caught her eye before the light. Her whole mental existence
became a chain of fears, but the kind-hearted woman loved her children
too tenderly to perm
|