“Bryaxis,” cried he, “hear what all the city knows already. If I am the first to tell thee I will make an offering to Artemis. But first let us make our salute: I had forgot.” He now looked towards us, as if to say, “Prepare yourselves well for what I am about to tell you.” Then he began thus: “You know, revered one, that Clesides painted the portrait of the Queen?” “People have spoken about it to me.” “But the end of the story ... has that also been told to you?” “Is there indeed a story then to tell?” “Is there a story?... You are ignorant of it all! Listen. Clesides came expressly from Athens. They took him to the Palace. The Queen was not yet ready; she permitted herself to be late. Finally she presented herself, scarcely saluting her artist, and then posed--if one could call it posing. It now seems that she continually moved, under the pretext that Love had given her a cramp. Clesides drew in a very bad humour, as you may imagine. His rough sketch was not even finished, and lo! the Queen wishes to pose for her back....” “Without a reason?” “For the reason that--so she said--her back was as perfect as the rest of her body, and must appear in the picture. Clesides might well protest that he was a painter and not a sculptor, that one does not turn a picture to see its back; that one cannot draw a woman seen from every side upon the one flat plane of a picture.... The Queen merely responded that it was her will; that the laws of art were not her laws; that she had seen the portrait of her sister as Persephone, of her mother as Demeter; and that she, Queen Stratonice, by her sole self, wished to pose for the ’Three Graces.’” “That was not such a stupid idea of hers.” Our comrade appeared to take umbrage at this remark. “Supposing that Clesides had replied, ’No’? He was free to do so, one would think. It is not the custom to give orders to the artist. Such a thing as that we could _not_ support. Never would her father Demetrius have done such a thing. Why, when he laid siege to Rhodes, where at the time Protogenes was at work, Demetrius refused to fire that part of the city where the sculptor worked.” “I know that story. Continue,” said Bryaxis. “Very well; I will be short with it. Clesides was very angry, but did not show it. He finished his study of the back, and the Queen rose, asking him to return on the morrow; he accepted, and left. Very good. On the morrow what awaited him? A servant, saying that the Queen Stratonice was fatigued, and would not pose any more. The servant was to pose for her until the portrait was finished. _That_ was what the Queen had desired!” We shook with mirth, and Bryaxis joined us therein. Ophelion then continued gaily-- “The slave was not badly made. Clesides gave her the same reason to be cramped that her mistress had, and then said in a dry way that he did not want her any more, and took himself and his drawings home.”