Now this litter was a room and twenty-four slaves carried it. Twelve women could easily lie within amid its blue tapestry, cushions and stuffs; and it was so lofty that it was not possible to touch the ceiling even with a fan. It was greater in length than in breadth, closed in front, but on the other three sides there were three very light yellow curtains, through which the light came with dazzling brightness. The floor was of cedar-wood covered with orange silk. Within it a lighted lamp struggled with the daylight and its ever changing shadows. Here Queen Berenice reclined between two Persian slaves who gently fanned her with fans of peacock’s feathers. She invited the young sculptor to her side with a look and repeated-- “Beloved, I am pleased.” She put her hand upon his cheek. “I was seeking you, beloved. Where have you been? I have not seen you since the day before yesterday. If I had not met you I should have shortly died of grief. Alone in this great litter I was very dull. When passing over the bridge of Hêrmes I threw all my jewels into the water to make rings. You can see that I have neither rings nor necklaces now. I am like a little pauper at your feet.” She turned to him and kissed him upon the lips. The two fan-bearers withdrew a little further, and when Queen Berenice began to speak in a low voice they put their fingers in their ears to pretend that they were not listening. But Demetrios did not reply, for he hardly heard her and was quite deranged. He could only see the young Queen’s smile on her red lips, and the black cushion of her hair which was always loosely arranged to serve as a pillow for her weary head. She said-- “Beloved, I have wept during the night. My bed was cold. When I awakened, I stretched out my naked arms on each side of my body and I did not touch you, nor could my hand find this hand of yours I am now embracing. I expected you in the morning and since the full moon you have not come. I sent my slaves into every quarter of the city and I condemned them to death when they returned without you. Where have you been? Were you at the Temple? You were not in the gardens with the foreign women? No, I can see from your eyes that you were not. Then what were you doing so long away from me? Were you before the statue? Yes, I am sure you were there. You love it more now than you love me. It is very like me, it has my eyes, my mouth, my breasts; but that is what you seek. As for me I am poor and forlorn. You are weary of me and I can see it clearly. You think of your marble and your ugly statues as if I were not more beautiful than all of them, as well as being alive, loving, good, ready to give all that you will accept and resigned to your refusals. But you will have nothing. You would not be king, you would not be a god and worshipped in a temple of your own. You will hardly, even, consent to love me now.” She withdrew her feet beneath her and leant upon her hand.