Cleopatra gazed after him with a sorrowful smile, and leaning on Charmian’s arm, she entered the palace.

There she was bathed and, robed in costly mourning garments, reclined among her cushions to take breakfast, which was usually served at this hour.  Iras and Charmian shared it.

When dessert was carried in, the Nubian brought a basket filled with delicious figs.  A peasant, she told Epaphroditus, who was watching the meal, had given them to her because they were so remarkably fine.  Some had already been snatched by the guards.

The Queen and her companions ate a little of the fruit, and Proculejus, who had come to greet Cleopatra, was also persuaded to taste one of the finest figs.

At the end of the meal Cleopatra wished to rest.  The Roman gentlemen and the guards retired.  At last the women were alone, and gazed at each other silently.

Charmian timidly lifted the upper layer of the fruit, but the Queen said mournfully: 

“The wife of Antony dragged through the streets of Rome behind the victor’s chariot, a spectacle for the populace and envious matrons!  “Then, starting up, she exclaimed:  “What a thought!  Was it too great for Octavianus, or too petty?  He who so loudly boasts his knowledge of mankind expects this impossibility from the woman who revealed her inmost soul to him as fully as he concealed his from her.  We will show him how small is his comprehension of human nature, and teach him modesty.”

A contemptuous smile flitted over her beautiful lips as, with rapid movements, she flung handful after handful of figs on the table, till she saw some thing stirring under the fruit, and with a sigh of relief exclaimed under her breath: 

“There it is!” as with hasty resolution she held out her arm towards the asp, which hissed at her.

While gazing intently at the movements of the viper, which seemed afraid to fulfil the dread office, she said to her attendants: 

“I thank you-thank you for everything.  Be calm.  You know, Iras, it will cause no pain.  They say it is like falling asleep.”  Then she shuddered slightly, adding:  “Death is a solemn thing; yet it must be.  Why does the serpent delay?  There, there; I will keep firm.  Ambition and love were the moving forces of my life.  Men shall praise my memory.—­I follow you, Mark Antony!” Charmian bent over the left arm of her royal mistress, which hung loosely at her side, and, weeping aloud, covered it with kisses, while Cleopatra, watching the motions of the asp still more closely, added: 

“The peace of our garden of Epicurus will begin to-day.  Whether it will be painless, who can tell?  Yet—­there I agree with Archibius—­life’s greatest joy—­love—­is blended with pain, as yonder branch of exquisite roses from Dolabella, the last gift of friendship, has its sharp thorns.  I think you have both experienced this.  The twins and my little darling —­When they think of their mother and her end, will not the children—­”