A love-sick fool who accompanied her drew his sword in her defence, raised his hand against the son of Caesar, and wounded him.

Calm yourself, I beseech you, I conjure you--the wound is slight.

The boy's mad passion makes me far more anxious." The Queen's pouting scarlet lips closed so firmly that her mouth lost the winning charm which was peculiar to it, and she answered in a firm, resolute tone: "It is the mother's place to protect the son against the temptress.

Alexas is right.

Her star stands in the path of mine.