that the Queen should feel confident of surpassing her rival even in
outward charms. No one, not even Cleopatra, could dispense with a
protecting wrap in this cold draught, and nothing suited her better than
the purple mantle in whose delicate woollen fabric black and gold dragons
and griffins were embroidered. Iras had taken care that it lay ready.
Barine could not fail to appear like a beggar in comparison, though
Alexas said that her blue kerchief was marvellously becoming.

He was a base-minded voluptuary, who, aided by rich gifts of mind and
wide knowledge, had shunned no means of ingratiating himself with Antony,
the most lavish of patrons. The repulse which this man, accustomed to
success, had received from Barine had been hard to forget, yet he did not
resign the hope of winning her. Never had she seemed more desirable than
in her touching weakness. Even base natures are averse to witnessing the
torture of the defenceless, and when Iras had aimed another poisoned
shaft at her, he ventured, at the risk of vexing his ally, to say, under
his breath:

"Condemned criminals are usually granted, before their end, a favourite
dish. I have no cause to wish Barine anything good; but I would not
grudge that. You, on the contrary, seem to delight in pouring wormwood
on her last mouthful."

"Certainly," she answered, her eyes sparkling brightly. "Malice is the
purest of pleasures; at least to me, when exercised on this woman."

The Syrian, with a strange smile, held out his hand, saying: "Keep your
good-will towards me, Iras."

"Because," she retorted with a sneer, "evil may follow my enmity. I