on the forehead of the sleeping man:

"I have an idea. All that matters is that my bust should serve to remind
you often of your mother; the bust need not stand in your rooms. The
busts of the women of the house of Ptolemy stand on the rotunda, which
you can see from your balcony, and which you can pass whenever you
please; some of them are badly mutilated and must be got rid of. I will
undertake to restore the Berenice and put your mother's head on her
shoulders. Then you have only to go out and look at her. Will that do?"

"Yes, Pollux; you are a good man."

"So I told you just now. I am beginning to improve. But time--time!
if I am to undertake to repair Berenice I must begin by saving the
minutes."

"Go back to your work now; I know how to apply a wet compress only too
well."

With these words Selene threw back her mantle over her shoulders so as to
leave her hands free for use, and stood with her slender figure, her pale
face, and the fine broadly-flowing folds of rich stuff, like a statue in
the eyes of the young sculptor.

"Stop--stay so--just so," cried Pollux to the astonished girl, so loudly
and eagerly that she was startled.

"Your cloak hangs with a wonderfully-free flow from your shoulders--in
the name of all the gods do not touch it. If only I might model from it
I should in a few minutes gain a whole day for our Berenice. I will wet