the fear that
Cleopatra had missed her services and discovered Barine's flight. True,
she mentioned the Queen's desire to place her children in Archibius's
charge, but she could not give him full particulars until she reached
her own apartments.

Her absence had not been noticed. The Regent Mardion had received the
procession in the Queen's name, for Cleopatra had driven into the city,
no one knew where.

Charmian entered her apartments with a lighter heart. Anukis opened the
door to them. She had remained undisturbed, and it was a pleasure to
Archibius to give the faithful, clever freedwoman an account of the
matter with his own lips. He could have bestowed no richer reward
upon the modest servant, who listened to his words as if they were a
revelation. When she disclaimed the thanks with which he concluded,
protesting that she was the person under obligation, the expression was
sincere. Her keen intellect instantly recognized the aristocrat's manner
of addressing an equal or an inferior; and he who, in her eyes, was the
first of men, had described the course of events as though she had stood
on the same level. The Queen herself might have been satisfied with the
report.

When she left Charmian's rooms to join the other servants, she told
herself that she was an especially favoured mortal; and when a young
cook teased her about her head being sunk between her shoulders, she
answered, laughing--"My shoulders have grown so high because I shrug
them so often at the fools who jeer at me and yet are not half so happy
and grateful."

Charmian, sorely wearied, had flung herself into an arm-chair, and
Archibius took his place opposite to her. They were happy in each
other's society, even when silent; but to-day the hearts of both were so
full that they fared like those who are so worn out by fatigue that they
cannot sleep. How much they had to tell each other!--yet it was long ere
Charmian broke the silence and returned to the subject of the Queen's
wish, describing to her brother Cleopatra's visit to the house which
the children had built, how kind and cordial she had been; yet, a few
minutes later, incensed by the mere mention of Barine's name, she had
dismissed her so ungraciously.

"I do not know what you intend," she said in conclusion, "but,
notwithstanding my love for her, I must perhaps decide in favour of what
is most difficult, for--when she learns that it was I who withdrew the
daughter of Leonax from her an