It
was indeed as if one had been led on to enchanted ground.

Cornelia and her friend dismounted from their chariot, and were led
through an endless colonnade, past a second, lower gateway, and then
into a hall, not very high or large, but admirable in its proportions,
with a whole gallery of choice mythological paintings on its walls.
Small heed did Cornelia give to them. For at the end of the hall rose
a low dais, whereon sat, in a gilded chair, the same person who had
been pointed out to Cornelia the day before as the mistress of Upper
and Lower Egypt.

The light was too dim to discover in the distance anything new in the
face of the queen. She wore a loose, long gown of some light blue
silken stuff; and her belt, shoes, neck, breast, and ears were all
glittering with gems. At the foot of the dais was a group of half a
dozen showily dressed chamberlains and courtiers, who made a slight
motion of greeting when the two guests darkened the doorway. One of
these functionaries advanced to Cornelia.

"Your ladyship," he began, in a smooth, colourless voice, "I have the
honour to be the Royal Introducing Chamberlain. In approaching the
queen, do as I shall direct. First, before advancing to the dais bow
slightly; then at the foot of the dais it is proper--"

"Sir," interrupted Cornelia, drawing herself up to her full height, "I
am not accustomed to your prostrations and genuflections, and of them
my countrymen make sorry work; pray excuse me." And without waiting
for reply or expostulation she advanced straight toward the dais. The
hall was small, the steps from the door to the queen's chair few; but
never did Cornelia fare on more tedious journey. She knew that a
half-horrified titter was passing through the group of courtiers She
knew that Cleopatra herself had stirred in her seat, as if to rise.
But one word sounded in Cornelia's ears, and that word was "Rome."
Were not Roman citizens nobles among nobles, and Roman senators peers
of kings! And she, daughter of the Cornelii and Claudii, whose
ancestors had broken the might of Antiochus the Great and
Mithridates--should she not look in the face the heiress of the
Lagidae? Had not one hundred years before Popilius, the Roman
commissioner, come unarmed into the presence of Antiochus Epiphanes,
while he was advancing to the gates of defenceless Alexandria, drawn a
circle in the dust about the king, and bidden him answer, before he
stepped over, whether he would court des