An occasional wreath is very nice, but by the ton they are apt to
weigh on his mind. Up to a certain point notoriety is like a woman, and a
man is apt to love it; but when it becomes exacting, demanding instead of
permitting itself to be courted, it loses its charm."
"That is Socratic in its wisdom," smiled Portia.
"But Xanthippic in its origin," returned Xanthippe. "No man ever gave me
my ideas."
As Xanthippe spoke, Lucretia Borgia burst into the room.
"Hurry and save yourselves!" she cried. "The boat has broken loose from
her moorings, and is floating down the stream. If we don't hurry up and do
something, we'll drift out to sea!"
"What!" cried Cleopatra, dropping her cue in terror, and rushing for the
stairs. "I was certain I felt a slight motion. You said it was the wash
from one of Charon's barges, Elizabeth."
"I thought it was," said Elizabeth, following closely after.
"Well, it wasn't," moaned Lucretia Borgia. "Calpurnia just looked out of
the window and discovered that we were in mid-stream."
The ladies crowded anxiously about the stair and attempted to ascend,
Cleopatra in the van; but as the Egyptian Queen reached the doorway to the
upper deck, the door opened, and the hard features of Captain Kidd were
thrust roughly through, and his strident voice rang out through the
gathering gloom. "Pipe my eye for a sardine if we haven't captured a
female seminary!" he cried.
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