stepped forward, a very splendid person, magnificently arrayed.

"Cleopatra the Greek," he answered, "the last of Egypt's Sovereigns, one
of the Ptolemys. You can always know her by that Roman who walks about
after her."

"Which?" asked Ma-Mee. "I see several--also other men. She was the
wretch who rolled Egypt in the dirt and betrayed her. Oh, if it were not
for the law of peace by which we must abide when we meet thus!"

"You mean that she would be torn to shreds, Ma-Mee, and her very soul
scattered like the limbs of Osiris? Well, if it were not for that law of
peace, so perhaps would many of us, for never have I heard a single king
among these hundreds speak altogether well of those who went before or
followed after him."

"Especially of those who went before if they happen to have hammered out
their cartouches and usurped their monuments," said the queen, dryly,
and looking him in the eyes.

At this home-thrust the Pharaoh seemed to wince. Making no answer, he
pointed to the royal woman who had mounted the steps at the end of the
hall.

Queen Cleopatra lifted her hand and stood thus for a while. Very
splendid she was, and Smith, on his hands and knees behind the boarding
of the boat, thanked his stars that alone among modern men it had been
his lot to look upon her rich and living loveliness. There she shone,
she who had changed the fortunes of the world, she who, whatever she did
amiss, at least had known how to die.