"And that was the end of Darius," the Spartan concluded. "Alexander was sorry for his death, and he spread his own cloak over him as he lay there; but I think it was better for him to die then than to live subject to another, remembering his former power. He was unfortunate in this, that he was not killed in battle, as all brave men should wish to be. He had an opportunity for that at Gaugamela, but he threw it away."

A picture rose before the Spartan's memory of Chares, lying with his broad shoulders against the side of his horse amid the dead, with a smile upon his lips, and he sighed.

"You have never yet told me what became of Bessus," the boy said coaxingly. "Is he still alive?"

"No," Leonidas replied, his face darkening. "He was betrayed in his turn, and Alexander ordered him to be killed in the manner of the Scyths when they punish traitors."

"What is that?" the boy asked.

"I shall not tell you," Leonidas said grimly, "but it was too good for him!"

"There is Thais," Clearchus exclaimed. "Run and fetch your mother," he added to his son.

They rose and went to meet Thais, who was advancing slowly down an avenue of trees. Two enormous black eunuchs held a broad parasol above her head, and other slaves followed her, both men and maids, forming a train of escort. When she saw Clearchus and Leonidas, she spoke a word to her attendants, who halted, and she came forward alone. The sunlight, sifting through the branches that formed a green arch over her head, touched the burnished coils of her hair, flashing from hidden jewels and glancing upon the shimmering silk of her robes.

"She is more beautiful than ever," Leonidas said, gazing at her with admiration.

"Yes, and she rules Ptolemy in everything," Clearchus replied.

"My friends!" Thais exclaimed, giving them her hands. "It makes my heart glad to see you; but where is Artemisia?"

"I have sent for her," Clearchus replied.

"Before she comes," Thais said, seating herself beneath the trellis and lowering her voice, "I must tell you something. The proofs for which I sent to Athens have arrived, and there can no longer be any doubt that we are sisters."

"She will be overjoyed," Clearchus said.

"I shall not tell her," Thais replied.

"Why not?" Leonidas asked bluntly. "You are a queen now, or will be one soon, and nobody thinks of--of the past."

"It is precisely because I intend to be a queen that I shall not tell her," Thais continued. "She could not love me more if she knew, and I will not be the means of bringing danger upon her or her children. We know the fate that awaits the kinsmen of princes. Did not Olympias cause Cleopatra to be slain with her babe in her arms? Has not Roxana murdered Statira, and is not Roxana herself, with the young Alexander, held in captivity? Nevertheless, I will tell her if you desire, and it shall be proclaimed throughout Egypt."

"May the Gods forbid!" Clearchus exclaimed. "You are right, Thais. It must not be told."

"Then I will destroy the proofs," she said, "and remain, as I have been, the first of my race."

All three were silent, thinking of the future, and Thais smiled faintly, as though at that moment she were conscious of the wonderful power that was to descend through her daughters, until it attained its perfection in the irresistible charm of that Cleopatra who was to see the conquerors of the world at her feet. Yet she sighed as her eyes met those of Clearchus.

"If only Chares were here!" she murmured.

"We know," the Athenian answered gravely, "and we do not blame you, since all of us must bow to the will of the Gods."

"I thank you," she said simply. "You have both been kind to me."

Artemisia joined them, holding one of her girls by either hand, while young Chares followed with his bow, concerning which he wished to consult Leonidas. There, in the vine-grown arbor, they sat talking until the shadows began to lengthen, and the afternoon drew to its close. Thais rose, lithe and graceful as an animal of the desert, and the slaves, who had been watching her, in a bright-colored group, from beneath the trees, scrambled to their feet.

"Come, Leonidas, the cares of state await us," she said. "Remember that you are a general now, and I am almost a queen, while these two have nothing to do but waste their time in being happy."

"You will come again to-morrow?" Artemisia said, embracing her.

"Perhaps," replied Thais, and she moved away down the avenue with the Spartan, toward the retinue of slaves who stood waiting to surround her.

Clearchus and Artemisia watched them until the foliage hid them from sight, and then turned toward the house. Artemisia noticed that a rose bush, weighted with flowers, had swayed across the path, and she stooped to put it back into place. Clearchus slipped his arm about her waist and kissed her.

"Silly!" she said, blushing, "everybody will see you."

"That cannot be helped," he retorted. "You looked then just as you looked in the garden in Academe that morning when I found you among your roses--and I think I love you more now than I did then."

"We love each other more," Artemisia said softly, "because we did not know then what it would be to lose each other."