entered the little harbour moved forward as slowly and silently as a
spectral ship. It seemed as if life were extinct on the huge galley
usually swarming with a numerous crew; as if a vessel were about to cast
anchor whose sailors had fallen victims to the plague. Nothing was heard
save an occasional word of command, and the signal whistles of the
fluteplayer who directed the rowers. A few lanterns burned with a
wavering light on the vast length of her decks. The brilliant
illumination which usually shone through the darkness would have
attracted the attention of the Alexandrians.

Now it was close to the landing. The group on shore watched every inch
of its majestic progress with breathless suspense, but when the first
rope was flung to the slaves on shore several men in Greek robes pressed
forward hurriedly among the courtiers.

They had come with a message, whose importance would permit no delay, to
the Regent Mardion, who stood between Zeno and Iras, gazing gloomily at
the ground with a frowning brow. He was pondering over the words in
which to address the Queen, and within a few minutes the ship would have
made her landing, and Cleopatra might cross the bridge. To disturb him
at that moment was an undertaking few who knew the irritable, uncertain
temper of the eunuch would care to risk. But the tall Macedonian, who
for a short time attracted the eyes of most of the spectators from the
galley, ventured to do so. It was the captain of the nightwatch, the
aristocratic commander of the police force of the city.

"Only a word, my lord," he whispered to the Regent, "though the time may
be inopportune."

"As inopportune as possible," replied the eunuch with repellent