“These are royal words, most notable Antony,” she made answer; “gracious and generous words, such as befit the Conqueror of the world!  And touching my misdeeds in the past—­if misdeeds there have been—­I say this, and this alone—­then I knew not Antony.  For, knowing Antony, who could sin against him?  What woman could lift a sword against one who must be to all women as a God—­one who, seen and known, draws after him the whole allegiance of the heart, as the sun draws flowers?  And what more can I say and not cross the bounds of woman’s modesty?  Why, only this—­set that crown upon my brow, great Antony, and I will take it as a gift from thee, by the giving made doubly dear, and to thy uses I will guard it.

“There, now I am thy vassal Queen, and through me all old Egypt that I rule does homage to Antony the Triumvir, who shall be Antony the Emperor of Rome and Khem’s Imperial Lord!”

And, having set the crown upon her locks, he stood gazing on her, grown passionate in the warm breath of her living beauty, till at length he caught her by both hands and drawing her to him kissed her thrice, saying: 

“Cleopatra, I love thee, Sweet—­I love thee as I never loved before.”  She drew back from his embrace, smiling softly; and as she did so the golden circlet of the sacred snakes fell, being but loosely set upon her brow, and rolled away into the darkness beyond the ring of light.

I saw the omen, and even in the bitter anguish of my heart knew its evil import.  But these twain took no note.

“Thou lovest me?” she said, most sweetly; “how know I that thou lovest me?  Perchance it is Fulvia whom thou lovest—­Fulvia, thy wedded wife?”

“Nay, it is not Fulvia, ’tis thou, Cleopatra, and thou alone.  Many women have looked favourably upon me from my boyhood up, but to never a one have I known such desire as to thee, O thou Wonder of the World, like unto whom no woman ever was!  Canst thou love me, Cleopatra, and to me be true, not for my place or power, not for that which I can give or can withhold, not for the stern music of my legion’s tramp, or for the light that flows from my bright Star of Fortune; but for myself, for the sake of Antony, the rough captain, grown old in camps?  Ay, for the sake of Antony the reveller, the frail, the unfixed of purpose, but who yet never did desert a friend, or rob a poor man, or take an enemy unawares?  Say, canst thou love me, Egypt?  Oh! if thou wilt, why, I am more happy than though I sat to-night in the Capitol at Rome crowned absolute Monarch of the World!”

And, ever as he spoke, she gazed on him with wonderful eyes, and in them shone a light of truth and honesty such as was strange to me.