Sardou's Cleopatra — page 48: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SARDOU’S CLEOPATRA. 33 close to the wooden partition, she listened intently. Shortly she heard the sound of footsteps within, and a deep voice asked: “Who is there ?” “Tt is I, uncle—Iras. Open! Open, quickly!” There was the sound of the withdrawal of bolts and the rattle of chains; the door swung open, and on the threshold appeared the tall figure of ‘anold man. ‘The lamp which he held aloft in his hand lighted up a face strong in intellect. His hair was white, and a long white beard fell almost to his waist. He was dressed in the snowy garments of a priest of Isis. ‘What, Iras!” he exclaimed. “You here, at this hour? What has happened ?” ‘‘Let me in at once, uncle,”’ was the hurried re- ply. “I have much to say to you.” He gave her a keen glance, and then, without a word, turned and led the way through a long, low _ corridor to a small, meagerly furnished apartment. Setting down the lamp, he motioned his visitor to be seated. The girl threw back her peplum, revealing a delicate face, with great blue eyes, and crowned by masses of golden hair. _ “Oh, uncle !” she exclaimed, nervously clasping Eomichoo: ‘cS (E(@)