Berenike had listened with blushing cheeks to her vivacious daughter; now
with timid earnestness she interrupted: "I know that those are the views
of the new times; that Antony in the eyes of the Egyptians, and probably
also according to their customs, is the rightful husband of the Queen.
I know, too, that you are both against me. Yet Cleopatra is in reality a
Greek, and therefore--eternal gods!--I can sincerely pity her; but the
marriage has been solemnized, and I cannot blame Octavia. She rears and
cherishes, as if they were her own, the children of her faithless husband
and Fulvia, his first wife, who have no claim upon her. It is more than
human to take the stones from the path of the man who became her foe, as
she does. No woman In Alexandria can pray more fervently than I that
Cleopatra and her friend may conquer Octavianus. His cold nature, highly
as my brother esteems him, is repellent to me. But when I gaze at
Octavia's beautiful, chaste, queenly, noble countenance, the mirror of
true womanly purity--"

"You can rejoice," Archibius added, completing the sentence, and laying
his right hand soothingly on the arm of the excited woman, "only it would
be advisable at this time to put the portrait elsewhere, and rest
satisfied with confiding your opinion of Octavia to your brother and a
friend as reliable as myself. If we conquer, such things may pass; if
not--The messenger tarries long--"

Here Barine again entreated him to use the time. She had only once had
the happiness of being noticed by the Queen--just after her song at the
Adonis festival. Then Cleopatra had advanced to thank her. She said
only a few kind words, but in a voice which seemed to penetrate the
inmost depths of her heart and bind her with invisible threads.
Meanwhile Barine's eyes met those of her sovereign, and at first they