most extraordinary resemblance between this
statue and Miss Read."

Then, as we all went forward, "Wonderful!" he repeated.

Margaret said not a word. The English girl only laughed. "Surely you
_see_ it?" he said.

"There may be a little something about the mouth--" I began.

But he interrupted me. "Why, it is perfect! The statue is her portrait
in marble. Miss Read, will you not let me place you in the same
position, just for an instant?" And, leading her to a little mound, he
placed her in the required pose; she had thrown off her hat to oblige
him, and now clasped her hands and turned her eyes over the sea towards
the eastern horizon. What was the result?

The only resemblance, as I had said, was about the mouth; for the
beautifully cut lips of the statue turned downward at the corners, and
the curve of Miss Read's sweet baby-like mouth was the same. But that
was all. Above was the woman's face in marble, beautiful, sad, full of
the knowledge and the grief of life; below was the face of a young girl,
lovely, fresh, and bright, and knowing no more of sorrow than a
blush-rose upon its stem.

"Exact!" said Lloyd.

Miss Read laughed, rose, and resumed her straw hat; presently they went
away.

[Illustration: THE STATUE IN THE CEMETERY]

"There was not the slightest resemblance," I said, almost with
indignation.

"People see resemblances differently," answered Margaret. Then, after a
pause, she added, "She is, at least, much more like the statue than I
am."

"Not in the spirit, dear," I said, much touched; for I saw that as she
spoke the rare tears had filled her eyes. But they did not fall;
Margaret had a great deal of self-control; perhaps too much.

Then there was a silence. "Shall we go now, aunt?" she said, after a
time. And we never spoke of the subject again.

"Look, look, Margaret! the palms of Bordighera!" I said, as our train
rushed past. It was our last of Mentone.

CAIRO IN 1890

I

[Illustration: CONTEMPORARY PORTRAIT OF CLEOPATRA

On the wall of the Temple at Denderah.--From a photograph by Sebah,
Cairo.]

"The way to Egypt is long and vexatious"--so Homer sings; and so also
have sung other persons more modern. A chopping sea prevails off Crete,
and whether one leaves Europe at Naples, Brindisi, or Athens, one's
steamer soon reaches that beautiful island, and consumes in passing it
an amount of time which is an ever-fresh surprise. Crete, with its long
coast-line and soaring