race.  Iras, on the contrary, was Dion’s playfellow, and I have long destined her for his wife.  No better match, nor one more acceptable to the Queen, could be found for him.  He cared for her until the singer bewitched him.  Bring them together, and they shall be like my own children.  If the fool resists his uncle, whose sole desire is to benefit him, I will withdraw my aid.  Whatever intrigues his foes may weave, I shall fold my arms and not interfere.  I stand in the place of his father, my dead brother, and demand obedience.  The Queen is my universe, and her favour is of more value than twenty refractory nephews.”

“You will retain her Majesty’s favour, even if you intercede for your brother’s son.”

“And Iras?  When she finds herself deceived—­and she will soon discover it—­she will not rest—­”

“Until she has brought ruin upon him,” interrupted Charmian, in a tone of sorrow rather than reproach as though she already beheld the impending disaster.  “But Iras has no greater influence with the Queen than I, and if you and I unite to protect the brave young fellow, who is of your own blood—­”

“Then, of course—­no doubt, on account of your longer period of service, you have more influence with her Majesty than Iras—­however—­such matters must be considered—­and I have already said—­my mind leaves its abode to follow the Queen like her shadow.  It heeds only what concerns her.  Let everything else go as it will.  The fleet the same as destroyed, Candidus defeated, Herod a deserter, treason on treason—­the African legions lost!  What in the name of the god who tried to roll back the wheel dashing down the mountain-side!—­And yet!  Let us offer sacrifices, my friend, and hope for better days!”

Zeno retired as he spoke, but Charmian moved forward with a drooping head to find Barine and her faithful Anukis, and weep her fill ere she went to perform the duty of consoling and sustaining her beloved mistress.  Yet she herself so sorely needed comfort.  Wherever she turned her eyes she beheld disaster, peril, treachery, and base intrigues.  She felt as if she had lived long enough, and that her day was over.  Hitherto her gentle nature, her intellect, which yearned to expand, gather new riches, and exchange what it had gained with others, had possessed much to offer to the Queen.  She had not only been Cleopatra’s confidante, but necessary to her to discuss questions far in advance of the demands of the times, which occupied her restless mind.  Now the Queen’s attention was wholly absorbed by events—­hard, cruel facts—­which she must resist or turn to her own advantage.  Her life had become a conflict, and Charmian felt that she was by no means combative.  The hard, supple, keenly polished intellect of Iras now asserted its value, and the elderly woman told herself that she was in danger of being held in less regard than her younger companion.  To resign her office would have given her peace of mind, but she repelled the thought.  For the very reason that these days were so full of misery and perhaps drawing nearer to the end, she must remain, first for the sake of the Queen, but also to watch over Barine.