Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-11-01

| Ik lnted my eyes the, | lR W@& Charmion, whom, indeed | H&8/ had altogether forgot l |KMJIlN ten. And though at tn, | UNAM i( moment l thought bu | EN\l little of it, noted vaguely tha
 she was flushed as though witl
 anger, and that she beat her foot upon tn, l floor.
 "Oh, is it thou, Charmion," I said. "Wha
 ails thee2 ArSthou cramped with standins | so long within thy hiding placea Why aids
 thou not slip hence when Cleopatra led me to the balconya"
 "Where is my kerchief9" she asked, shoot ing an angry glance at me- 'I let fall m, broidered kerchief."
 "The kerchief! Why, didst thou not see Cleopatra twltted me about it, and I flung i, from the balcony"
 "Yea, saw," answered the girl, "I saw put too we'll Thou didst fling away my kerchlef, but the wreath of roses-tha, Lhou wouldst not fling away. It was a queens gift, forsooth, and therefore, the Royal Harmachis, the Priest of Isis, the chosen of the Gods, the crowned Pharaoh wed to the veal of Khem, cherished it and saved It. But my kerchief, stung by the laus hter or that light Queen, he cast awayP
 cO. lshed at her bitter tone. 'I read not thy riddles"
 "What mean IT" she answered. tossnp Q up her head, and showing the white curves e1 tcr throat May, mean naught or all. taHe IL as thou wilt. Wouldst know what l mean, Harmachis, my cousin and my Lordt" she went on in hard, low voice. "Bchold. will tell thee-thou art in danger of the great offense. This Cleopatra hath cast her fatal wiles about thee, and thou goest ncLr to loving her, Harmachis-to loving her whom tomorrow thou must s!aYl Ay, stand and stare at that wreath "ithln thy hand-the wreath thou couldst not send to join my kerchief-sure Cleo Pa'fa wore It but tonight! The perfume or the hatr ef Caesar's m.stress-Casar's and ethers'-yet mingles with the odor of It's rosesl Now, prithee, Harmachis, how lar didst thou carry the matter on wonder balcony!-for in that hole where I lay hid l could not hear or see. 'Tis a sweet snot for lovers, is 1t nota-ay, and a sweet Klast, too Venus Is surely in the right ascension1'i
 And all of this she said so quietly and in so so1t and modest way, though her words were not modest, and yet so bitterly, that every SyN' ole cut me to the heart, and an- S-.-~ -c ;--l l could find no speech,
 "li it .fsth thou hast 2 wise eeoaemy.n fi.o vent op, seeing her advantage, 4to. 'isht thou dost kiss the lips that to-morrow thou shalt still foreveri Iris frugal dealing w;ih the occasion of the moment; ave, wor. thy and honorable dealing"
 iheu at last l broke forth. ssGirlp, I erred, "hoW larest thau speak thus to mel Mndcst thou who and what am that thou loosoth thy peevish gibes upon meH,
 Il iAlad what it behoovos thee to be-" she answered quick. What thou art, that [ ''is'd not now. Surely thou knowest alone thou and CleopatraP'
 t"What meanest thou2n said uAmT+o blanc if tho Queep-''
 "lA. Suaon! What have we herel Phar- aoh owns q Cueepr'
 '1f Cleopatra wills to cone hither of a night and talk"
 'Ot stars, Harmachis-surely of stars and roses, and naught besider'
 After that know not what said; for. troubled as l was, the girl's bitter tongue and quiet way drove ma well-nigh to mad ness. But thls know spoke so fercelv that sho covered before me as she had covered before my uncle Sepa, when he rated her because of her Grecian garb. And as she wept then, so she wept now. only more passionately and with sobs.
 At length l ceased, half ashamed. but
 
 Whilo she wept she could find a tongue to answer with-and woman's shafts are sharp.
 Thou shouldst not speak to me thus I'' she soboed; "its cruel-it is unmanlyi But l forgot thou art priest, not a man-ex cept, mayhap, for Cleopatrar'
 "What right hast thou" said. "What canst thou meant"
 "What right have IT" she asked, looking up, her dark eyes all aflood with tears that ran down her sweet face like the dew of morning down lily's heart. "What right have + Q Harmachis! hrt thou blinda nost thou not know by what right speak thus to theea Then must tell theel We'll, tis the fashion in Alexandrial By that first and holy right of woman-by the right of the great love bear thee, and which, it 1 seems, thou hast no eyes to see-by the l right ef my glory and my shame. O, be not | Evroth with me, Harmaohis, nor set me down as light, because the truth has at last | burst from me; for am not SO. l am what | thou wilt make me- I am the wax within l .he molder's hands, and as thou dost l fashion me so shall be. There breathes l within me now breath of glory blowing l across the waters of my soul. that can wait l me to ends more noble than ever I have | dreamed afore, if thou wilt be my pilot and | my guide. But if lose thee, then lose all | hat holds me from my worse self-and let | 'hipwreck comei Thou knowest me not, | aarmachis! thou canst not see how big Q l spirit struggles within this frail form of | ninei To thee l am 8 girl, clever, way ward, shallow. ButI am morei Show mo | .hy lofticst thought and will match it, the deepest puzzle of thy mind and will make t clear. Of one blood are we, and love can ravel up our little difference and make us grow enc indeed, One end we have, one and wo love, one vow binds us both. Take ne to thy heart, Harmaohis, and set me by ,hee on the Double Throne, and I swear hat win lift thee higher than ever man ms climbed. Reject me, and beware lest pull thee down! And now, putting sside he cold delicacy of custom, stung thereto y what saw of the arts of that lovely liv- ng falsehood, Cleopatra, which for pastime 'he doth practice on thy folly, Ihave spoken 'ut my heart, and answer thou" And she ,lasped her hands, and, drawing one pace 'earer, gazed all trembling on my face.
 For 9 moment stood struck dumb, for he magic of her voice and the power of her 'peech, despite myself, had stirred me ike the rush of music. Had loved the woman doubtEss she might have fired .ms with her flame; but loved her not, and 'ould not play at passion. And so thought