bore your name, Berenike--ruined his life. Compared with them, the King
was worthy and virtuous. What had become of the heroes and the high-
minded princes of the house of Ptolemy? Every passion and crime had
found a home in their palaces!

"The flute-player, Cleopatra's father, was by no means the worst.
He was a slave to his own caprices; no one had taught him to bridle his
passions. Where it served his purpose, even death was summoned to his
aid; but this was a custom of the last sovereigns of his race. In one
respect he was certainly superior to most of them--he still possessed a
capacity to feel a loathing for the height of crime, to believe in virtue
and loftiness of soul, and the possibility of implanting them in youthful
hearts. When a boy, he had been under the influence of an excellent
teacher, whose precepts had lingered in his memory and led him to
determine to withdraw his favourite children--two girls--from their
mother's sway, at least as far as possible.

"I learned afterwards that it had been his desire to confide the
princesses wholly to my parents' care. But an invincible power opposed
this. Though Greeks might be permitted to instruct the royal children
in knowledge, the Egyptians would not yield the right to their religious
education. The leech Olympus--you know the good old man--had insisted
that the delicate Cleopatra must spend the coldest winter months in Upper
Egypt, where the sky was never clouded, and the summer near the sea in a
shady garden. The little palace at Kanopus was devoted to this purpose.

"When we moved there it was entirely unoccupied, but the princesses were
soon to be brought to us. During the winter Olympus preferred the island
of Philae, on the Nubian frontier, because the famous Temple of Isis was
there, and its priests willingly undertook to watch over the children.