It Happened in Egypt

								

Egyptian historical novels would account for anything. I simply looked
as diplomatic training can teach any one to look.
Evidently it was the right look in the right place, for Cleopatra
continued more courageously, recalling the great Pharos of white marble
which used to be one of the world's wonders in her day; the Museum, and
the marvellous Library which took fire while Julius Caesar burned the
fleet, nearby in the harbour.
"Think of the philosophers who deserted the College of Heliopolis for
Alexandria!" she said. "Antony was more of a soldier than a student,
but even he grieved for the Library. You know he tried to console
Cleopatra by making her a present of two hundred thousand MSS. from the
library of the King of Pergamus. It was a generous thought--like
Antony!"
"Does the harbour looked changed?" I hastened to inquire.
"Not from a distance, though landing may be a shock: they tell me it's
all so Italian now. It was Greek in old days. I've read that there
isn't a stone left of my--of the lovely place on Lochias Point, except
the foundations they found in the seventies. But I must go to see
what's left of the Baths, even though there's only a bit of mosaic and
the remains of a room. Monny's anxious to get on to Cairo, but we shall
come back to Alexandria later. Lord Ernest, when I shut my eyes, I
really do seem to picture the Mareotic Lake, and the buildings that
made Alexandria the glory of the world. Do you remember what Strabo
said about Deinchares, the architect who laid out the plan of the city
in the shape of a Macedonian mantle, to please Alexander?"
"I'm not as well up in history as you are," I said, "though I've
studied a bit, because I was born in Egypt. Poor Alexander didn't live
long in his fine city, did he? I wonder what he'd think of it now? And
I wonder if his palace was handsomer than the Khedive's? That huge
white building with the pillars and domes. I seem to remember----"
"What, you remember, too? You ought to consult Sayda!"
"I didn't mean exactly what you mean," I explained, humbly. "Still, why
shouldn't I have lived in Egypt long ago? The learned ones say you're
always drawn back where you've been in other states of existence----"
"That's true, I'm sure!"
"Well, then, why shouldn't I have the same sort of right to Egypt you
have, if you were Cleopatra?--I believe you must have been, because you
look as she ought to have looked, you know. Why shouldn't I have been a
friend of Marc Antony, coming from Rome to give him good advice and
trying to persuade----"
"Oh, not that he ought to give me up!"
"No, indeed: to urge him to leave the island where he hid even from you
(didn't they call it Timoneum?). Why couldn't Antony play his cards so
as to keep Cleopatra and the world, too? She'd have liked him better,
wouldn't she? My friend Antoun Effendi--I mean Anthony Fenton,"--I
stopped short: for the less said about Fenton the better, at present.