CHAPTER XVIII.
When Cleopatra left the temple, Iras marvelled at the change in herappearance. The severe tension which had given her beautiful face ashade of harshness had yielded to an expression of gentle sadness thatenhanced its charm, yet her features quickly brightened as her attendantpointed to the procession which was just entering the forecourt of thepalace.
In Alexandria and throughout Egypt birthdays were celebrated as far aspossible. Therefore, to do honour to the twins, the children of the cityhad been sent to offer their congratulations, and at the same time toassure their royal mother of the love and devotion of the citizens.
The return to the palace occupied only a few minutes, and as Cleopatra,hastily donning festal garments, gazed down at the bands of children,it seemed as if Fate by this fair spectacle had given her a sign ofapproval of her design.
She was soon standing hand in hand with the twins upon the balconybefore which the procession had halted. Hundreds of boys and girls ofthe same age as the prince and princess had flocked thither, the formerbearing bouquets, the latter small baskets filled with lilies androses. Every head was crowned with a wreath, and many of the girls woregarlands of flowers. A chorus of youths and maidens sang a festalhymn, beseeching the gods to grant the royal mother and children everyhappiness; the leader of the chorus of girls made a short address in thename of the city, and during this speech the children formed in ranks,the tallest in the rear, the smallest in the front, and the othersbetween according to their height. The scene resembled a living garden,in which rosy faces were the beautiful flowers.
Cleopatra thanked the citizens for the charming greeting sent to her bythose whom they held dearest, and assured them that she returned theirlove. Her eyes grew dim with tears as she went with her three childrento the throng who offered their congratulations, and an unusually prettylittle girl whom she kissed threw her arms around her as tenderly as ifshe were her own mother. And how beautiful was the scene when the girlsstrewed the contents of their little baskets on the ground before her,and the boys, with many a ringing shout and loving wish, offered thebouquets to her and the twins!
Charmian had not forgotten to provide the gifts; and when thechamberlains and waiting-women led the children into a large hall tooffer them refreshments, the Queen's eyes sparkled so brightly that thecompanion of her childhood ventured to make her difficult confession.
And, as so often happens, the event we most dread shows, when itactually occurs, a friendly or indifferent aspect; this was thecase now. Nothing in life is either great or small--the one may betransformed to the other, according to the things with which it iscompared. The tallest man becomes a dwarf beside a rocky giant of themountain chain, the smallest is a Titan to the swarming ants in theforest. The beggar seizes as a treasure what the rich man scornfullycasts aside. That which the day before yesterday seemed to Cleopatraunendurable, roused her keenest anxiety, robbed her of part of hernight's repose, and induced her to adopt strenuous measures, nowappeared trivial and scarcely worthy of consideration.
Yesterday and to-day had brought events and called up questions whichforced Barine's disappearance into the realm of unimportant matters.
Charmian's confession was preceded by the statement that she longed forrest yet, nevertheless, was ready to remain with her royal friend, inevery situation, until she no longer desired her services and sent heraway. But she feared that this moment had come.
Cleopatra interrupted her with the assurance that she was speakingof something utterly impossible; and when Charmian disclosed Barine'sescape, and admitted that it was she who had aided the flight of theinnocent and sorely threatened granddaughter of Didymus, the Queenstarted up angrily and frowned, but it was only for a moment. Then, witha smile, she shook her finger at her friend, embraced her, and gravelybut kindly assured her that, of all vices, ingratitude was most alien toher nature. The companion of her childhood had bestowed so many proofsof faithfulness, love, self-sacrifice, and laborious service in herbehalf that they could not be long outweighed by a single act of wilfuldisobedience. An abundant supply would still remain, by virtue of whichshe might continue to sin without fearing that Cleopatra would ever partfrom her Charmian.
The latter again perceived that nothing on earth could be hostile orsharp enough to sever the bond which united her to this woman. When herlips overflowed with the gratitude which filled her heart, Cleopatraadmitted that it seemed as if, in aiding Barine's escape, she hadrendered her a service. The caution with which Charmian had concealedBarine's refuge had not escaped her notice, and she did not ask tolearn it. It was enough for her that the dangerous beauty was out ofCaesarion's reach. As for Antony, a wall now separated him fromthe world, and consequently from the woman who, spite of Alexas'saccusations, had probably never stood closer to his heart.
Charmian now eagerly strove to show the Queen what had induced theSyrian to pursue Barine so vindictively. It was evident--and scarcelyneeded proof--that Mark Antony's whole acquaintanceship with theold scholar's granddaughter had been far from leading to any tenderrelation. But Cleopatra gave only partial attention. The man whom shehad loved with every pulsation of her heart already seemed to her onlya dear memory. She did not forget the happiness enjoyed with and throughhim, or the wrong she had done by the use of the magic goblet; yet withthe wall on the Choma, which divided him from her and the rest of theworld, and her command to have the mausoleum built, she imagined thatthe season of love was over. Any new additions to this chapter ofthe life of her heart were but the close. Even the jealousy which hadclouded the happiness of her love like a fleeting, rapidly changingshadow, she believed she had now renounced forever.
While Charmian protested that no one save Dion had ever been heardwith favour by Barine, and related many incidents of her former life,Cleopatra's thoughts were with Antony. Like the image of the beloveddead, the towering figure of the Roman hero rose before her mind, butshe recalled him only as he was prior to the battle of Actium. Shedesired and expected nothing more from the broken-spirited man, whosecondition was perhaps her own fault. But she had resolved to atone forher guilt, and would do so at the cost of throne and life. This settledthe account. Whatever her remaining span of existence might add orsubtract, was part of the bargain.
The entrance of Alexas interrupted her. With fiery passion he expressedhis regret that he had been defrauded by base intrigues of the rightbestowed upon him to pass sentence upon a guilty woman. This was themore difficult to bear because he was deprived of the possibility ofproviding for the pursuit of the fugitive. Antony had honoured himwith the commission to win Herod back to his cause. He was to leaveAlexandria that very night. As nothing could be expected in this matterfrom the misanthropic Imperator, he hoped that the Queen would avengesuch an offence to her dignity, and adopt severe measures towards thesinger and her last lover, Dion, who with sacrilegious hands had woundedthe son of Caesar.
But Cleopatra, with royal dignity, kept him within the limits of hisposition, commanded him not to mention the affair to her again, andthen, with a sorrowful smile, wished him success with Herod, in whosereturn to the lost cause of Antony, however, much as she prized theskill of the mediator, she did not believe.
When he had retired, she exclaimed to Charmian: "Was I blind? This manis a traitor! We shall discover it. Wherever Dion has taken his youngwife, let her be carefully concealed, not from me, but from this Syrian.It is easier to defend one's self against the lion than the scorpion.You, my friend, will see that Archibius seeks me this very day. I musttalk with him, and--you no longer have any thought of a parting? Anotherwill come soon enough, which will forever forbid these lips from kissingyour dear face."
As she spoke, she again clasped the companion of her childhood inher arms, and when Iras entered to request an audience for Lucilius,Antony's most faithful friend, Cleopatra, who had noticed the youngerwoman's envious glance at the embrace, said: "Was I mistaken in fancyingthat you imagined yourself slighted for Charmian, who is an olderfriend? That would be
wrong; for I love and need you both. You areher niece, and indebted to her for much kindness from your earliestchildhood. So, even though you will lose the joy of revenge upon a hatedenemy, forget what has happened, as I did, and maintain your formeraffectionate companionship. I will reward you for it with the only thingthat the daughter of the wealthy Krates cannot purchase, yet which sheprobably rates at no low value--the love of her royal friend."
With these words she clasped Iras also in a close embrace, and when thelatter left the room to summon Lucilius, she thought: "No woman has everwon so much love; perhaps that is why she possesses so great a treasureof it, and can afford such unspeakable happiness by its bestowal. Or isshe so much beloved because she entered the world full of its wealth,and dispenses it as the sun diffuses light? Surely that must be thecase. I have reason to believe it, for whom did I ever love save theQueen? No one, not even myself, and I know no one in whose love for meI can believe. But why did Dion, whom I loved so fervently, disdain me?Fool! Why did Mark Antony prefer Cleopatra to Octavia, who was not lessfair, whose heart was his, and whose hand held the sovereignty of halfthe world?"
Passing on as she spoke, she soon returned, ushering the Roman Luciliusinto the presence of the Queen. A gallant deed had bound this man toAntony. After the battle of Philippi, when the army of the republicansfled, Brutus had been on the point of being seized by the enemy'shorsemen; but Lucilius, at the risk of being cut down, had personatedhim, and thereby, though but for a short time, rescued him. This hadseemed to Antony unusual and noble and, in his generous manner, he hadnot only forgiven him, but bestowed his favour upon him. Lucilius wasgrateful, and gave him the same fidelity he had showed to Brutus. AtActium he had risked Antony's favour to prevent his deserting Cleopatraafter the battle, and then accompanied him in his flight. Now he wasbearing him company in his seclusion on the Choma.
The grey-haired man who, but a short time before, had retained allthe vigour of youth, approached the Queen with bowed head and saddenedheart. His face, so regular in its contours, had undergone a markedchange within the past few weeks. The cheeks were sunken, the featureshad grown sharper, and there was a sorrowful expression in the eyes,which, when informing Cleopatra of his friend's condition, glitteredwith tears.
Before the hapless battle he was one of Cleopatra's most enthusiasticadmirers; but since he had been forced to see his friend and benefactorrisk fame, happiness, and honour to follow the Queen, he had cherished afeeling of bitter resentment towards her. He would certainly have sparedhimself this mission, had he not been sure that she who had brought herlover to ruin was the only person who could rouse him from spiritlesslanguor to fresh energy and interest in life.
From motives of friendship, urged by no one, he came unbidden to thewoman whom he had formerly so sincerely admired, to entreat her tocheer the unfortunate man, rouse him, and remind him of his duty. He hadlittle news to impart; for on the voyage she had herself witnessed longenough the pitiable condition of her husband. Now Antony was beginningto be content in it, and this was what most sorely troubled the faithfulfriend.
The Imperator had called the little palace which he occupied on theChoma his Timonium, because he compared himself with the famous Athenianmisanthrope who, after fortune abandoned him, had also been betrayed bymany of his former friends. Even at Taenarum he had thought of returningto the Choma, and by means of a wall, which would separate it from themainland, rendering it as inaccessible as--according to rumour--thegrave of Timon at Halae near Athens. Gorgias had erected it, andwhoever wished to visit the hermit was forced to go by sea and requestadmittance, which was granted to few.
Cleopatra listened to Lucilius with sympathy, and then asked whetherthere was no way of cheering or comforting the wretched man.
"No, your Majesty," he replied. "His favourite occupation is to recallwhat he once possessed, but only to show the uselessness of thesememories. 'What joys has life not offered me?' he asks, and then adds:'But they were repeated again and again, and after being enjoyed for thetenth time they became monotonous and lost their charm. Then they causedsatiety to the verge of loathing.' Only necessary things, such as breadand water, he says, possess real value; but he desires neither, becausehe has even less taste for them than for the dainties which spoil aman's morrow. Yesterday in a specially gloomy hour, he spoke of gold.This was perhaps most worthy of desire. The mere sight of it awakenedpleasant hopes, because it might afford so many gratifications. Then helaughed bitterly, exclaiming that those joys were the very ones whichproduced the most disagreeable satiety. Even gold was not worth thetrouble of stretching out one's hand.
"He is fond of enlarging upon such fancies, and finds images to make hismeaning clear.
"'In the snow upon the highest mountain-peak the feet grow cold,' hesaid. 'In the mire they are warm, but the dark mud is ugly and clings tothem.'
"Then I remarked that between the morass and the mountain-snows liesunny valleys where life would be pleasant; but he flew into a rage,vehemently protesting that he would never be content with the pitiablemiddle course of Horace. Then he exclaimed: 'Ay, I am vanquished.Octavianus and his Agrippa are the conquerors; but if a rock mutilatesor an elephant's clumsy foot crushes me, I am nevertheless of a higherquality than either.'"
"There spoke the old Mark Antony!" cried Cleopatra; but again Lucilius'sloyal heart throbbed with resentment against the woman who had fosteredthe recklessness which had brought his powerful friend to ruin, and hecontinued:
"But he often sees himself in a different light. 'No writer could inventa more unworthy life than mine,' he exclaimed recently. 'A farce endingin a tragedy.'"
Lucilius might have added still harsher sayings, but the sorrowfulexpression in the tearful eyes of the afflicted Queen silenced them uponhis lips.
Yet Cleopatra's name blended with most of the words uttered by thebroken-spirited man. Sometimes it was associated with the most furiousreproaches, but more frequently with expressions of boundless delightand wild outbursts of fervent longing, and this was what inspiredLucilius with the hope that the Queen's influence would be effectualwith his friend. Therefore he repeated some especially ardent words, towhich Cleopatra listened with grateful joy.
Yet, when Lucilius paused, she remarked that doubtless the misanthropisthad spoken of her, and probably of Octavia also, in quite a differentway. She was prepared for the worst, for she was one of the rocksagainst which his greatness had been shattered.
This reminded Lucilius of the comment Antony had made upon the threewomen whom he had wedded, and he answered reluctantly: "Fulvia, the wifeof his youth--I knew the bold, hot-blooded woman, the former wife ofClodius--he called the tempest which swelled his sails."
"Yes, Yes!" cried Cleopatra. "So she did. He owes her much; but I, too,am indebted to the dead Fulvia. She taught him to recognize and yield towoman's power."
"Not always to his advantage," retorted Lucilius, whose resentment wasrevived by the last sentence and, without heeding the faint flush on theQueen's cheek, he added: "Of Octavia he said that she was the straightpath which leads to happiness, and those who are content to walk in itare acceptable to gods and men."
"Then why did he not suffer it to content him?" cried Cleopatrawrathfully.
"Fulvia's school," replied the Roman, "was probably the last wherehe would learn the moderation which--as you know--is so alien to hisnature. His opinion of the quiet valleys and middle course you have justheard."
"But I, what have I been to him?" urged the Queen.
Lucilius bent his gaze for a short time on the floor, then answeredhesitatingly:
"You asked to hear, and the Queen's command must be obeyed. He comparedyour Majesty to a delicious banquet given to celebrate a victory, atwhich the guests, crowned with garlands, revel before the battle--"
"Which is lost," said the Queen hurriedly, in a muffled voice. "Thecomparison is apt. Now, after the defeat, it would be absurd to prepareanother feast. The tragedy is closing, so the play (doubtless he saidso) which preceded it
would be but a wearisome repetition if performeda second time. One thing, it is true, seems desirable--a closing act ofreconciliation. If you think it is in my power to recall my husband toactive life, rely upon me. The banquet of which he spoke occupied longyears. The dessert will consume little time, but I am ready to serve it.When I asked permission to visit him he refused. What plan of meetinghave you arranged?"
"That I will leave to your feminine delicacy of feeling," repliedLucilius. "Yet I have come with a request whose fulfilment will perhapscontain the answer. Eros, Mark Antony's faithful body-slave, humblypetitions your Majesty to grant him a few minutes' audience. You knowthe worthy fellow. He would die for you and his master, and he--I onceheard from your lips the remark of King Antiochus, that no man was greatto his body-slave--thus Eros sees his master's weaknesses and loftyqualities from a nearer point of view than we, and he is shrewd. Antonygave him his freedom long ago, and if your Majesty does not object toreceiving a man so low in station--"
"Let him come," replied Cleopatra. "Your demand upon me is just.Unhappily, I am but too well aware of the atonement due your friend.Before you came, I was engaged in making preparations for the fulfilmentof one of his warmest wishes."
With these words she dismissed the Roman. Her feelings as she watchedhis departure were of very mingled character. The yearning for thehappiness of which she had been so long deprived had again awaked, whilethe unkind words which he had applied to her still rankled in herheart. But the door had scarcely closed behind Lucilius when the usherannounced a deputation of the members of the museum.
The learned gentlemen came to complain of the wrong which had been doneto their colleague, Didymus, and also to express their loyalty duringthese trying times. Cleopatra assured them of her favour, and said thatshe had already offered ample compensation to the old philosopher. In acertain sense she was one of themselves. They all knew that, from earlyyouth, she had honoured and shared their labours. In proof of this,she would present to the library of the museum the two hundred thousandvolumes from Pergamus, one of the most valuable gifts Mark Antony hadever bestowed upon her, and which she had hitherto regarded merely asa loan. This she hoped would repay Didymus for the injury which, to herdeep regret, had been inflicted upon him, and at least partially repairthe loss sustained by the former library of the museum during theconflagration in the Bruchium.
The sages, eagerly assuring her of their gratitude and devotion,retired. Most of them were personally known to Cleopatra who, to theirmutual pleasure and advantage, had measured her intellectual powers withthe most brilliant minds of their body.
The sun had already set, when a procession of the priests of Serapis,the chief god of the city, whose coming had been announced the daybefore, appeared at Lochias. Accompanied by torch and lantern bearers,it moved forward with slow and solemn majesty. In harmony with thenature of Serapis, there were many reminders of death.
The meaning of every image, every standard, every shrine, everypeculiarity of the music and singing, was familiar to the Queen. Eventhe changing colours of the lights referred to the course of growth anddecay in the universe and in human life, and the magnificent close ofthe chant of homage which represented the reception of the royal soulinto the essence of the deity, the apotheosis of the sovereign, was wellsuited to stir the heart; for a sea of light unexpectedly flooded thewhole procession and, while its glow irradiated the huge pile of thepalace, the sea with its forest of ships and masts, and the shore withits temples, pylons, obelisks, and superb buildings, all the choruses,accompanied by the music of sackbuts, cymbals, and lutes, blended ina mighty hymn, whose waves of sound rose to the star-strewn sky andreached the open sea beyond the Pharos.
Many a symbolical image suggested death and the resurrection, defeat anda victory following it by the aid of great Serapis; and when the torchesretired, vanishing in the darkness, with the last, notes of the chantingof the priests, Cleopatra, raised her head, feeling as if the vow shehad made during the gloomy singing of the aged men and the extinguishingof the torches had received the approval of the deity brought by herforefathers to Alexandria and enthroned there to unite in his own personthe nature of the Greek and the Egyptian gods.
Her tomb was to be built and, if destiny was fulfilled, to receive herlover and herself. She had perceived from Antony's bitter words, as wellas the looks and tones of Lucilius, that he, as well as the man to whomher heart still clung with indissoluble bonds, held her responsible forActium and the fall of his greatness.
The world, she knew, would imitate them, but it should learn that iflove had robbed the greatest man of his day of fame and sovereignty,that love had been worthy of the highest price.
The belief which had just been symbolically represented to her--thatit was allotted to the vanishing light to rise again in new and radiantsplendour--she would maintain for the present, though the best successcould scarcely lead to anything more than merely fanning the glimmeringspark and deferring its extinction.
For herself there was no longer any great victory to win which would beworth the conflict. Yet the weapons must not rest until the end. Antonymust not perish, growling, like a second Timon, or a wild beast caughtin a snare. She would rekindle, though but for the last blaze, the fireof his hero-nature, which blind love for her and the magic spell thathad enabled her to bind his will had covered for a time with ashes.
While listening to the resurrection hymn of the priests of Serapis, shehad asked herself if it might not be possible to give Antony, when hehad been roused to fresh energy, the son of Caesar as a companion inarms. True, she had found the boy in a mood far different from the onefor which she had hoped. If he had once been carried on to a bold deed,it seemed to have exhausted his energy; for he remained absorbed in themost pitiable love-sickness. Yet he had not recovered from his illness.When he was better he would surely wake to active interest in the eventswhich threatened to exert so great an influence on his own existenceand, like the humblest slave, lament the defeat of Actium. Hitherto hehad listened to the tidings of battle which had reached his ears withan indifference that seemed intelligible and pardonable only whenattributed to his wound.
His tutor Rhodon had just requested a leave of absence, remarking thatCaesarion would not lack companions, since he was expecting Antyllus andother youths of his own age. A flood of light streamed from the windowsof the reception hall of the "King of kings." There was still time toseek him and make him understand what was at stake. Ah! if she could butsucceed in awaking his father's spirit! If that culpable attack shouldprove the harbinger of future deeds of manly daring!
No interview with him as yet had encouraged this expectation, but amother's heart easily sees, even in disappointment, a step which leadsto a new hope. When Charmian entered to announce Antony's body-slave,she sent word to him to wait, and requested her friend to accompany herto her son.
As they approached the apartments occupied by Caesarion, Antyllus's loudvoice reached them through the open door, whose curtain was only halfdrawn. The first word which the Queen distinguished was her own name;so, motioning to her companion, she stood still. Barine was again thesubject of conversation.
Antony's son was relating what Alexas had told him. Cleopatra, theSyrian had asserted, intended to send the young beauty to the mines orinto exile, and severely punish Dion; but both had made their escape.The Ephebi had behaved treacherously by taking sides with their foe. Butthis was because they were not yet invested with their robes. He hopedto induce his father to do this as soon as he shook off his pitiablemisanthropy. And he must also be persuaded to direct the pursuit of thefugitives. "This will not be difficult," he cried insolently, "for theold man appreciates beauty, and has himself cast an eye on the singer.If they capture her, I'll guarantee nothing, you 'King of kings!' for,spite of his grey beard, he can cut us all out with the women, andBarine--as we have heard--doesn't think a man of much importance untilhis locks begin to grow thin. I gave Derketaeus orders to send all hismen in pursuit. He's as cunning as a fox, and
the police are compelledto obey him."
"If I were not forced to lie here like a dead donkey, I would soon findher," sighed Caesarion. "Night or day, she is never out of my mind. Ihave already spent everything I possessed in the search. Yesterday Isent for the steward Seleukus. What is the use of being my mother'sson, and the fat little fellow isn't specially scrupulous! He will donothing, yet there must be gold enough. The Queen has sunk millions inthe sand on the Syrian frontier of the Delta. There is to be a squarehole or something of the sort dug there to hide the fleet. I only halfunderstand the absurd plan. The money might have paid hundreds of spies.So talents are thrown away, and the strong-box is locked against theson. But I'll find one that will open to me. I must have her, though Irisk the crown. It always sounds like a jeer when they call me the Kingof kings. I am not fit for sovereignty. Besides, the throne will beseized ere I really ascend it. We are conquered, and if we succeed inconcluding a peace, which will secure us life and a little more, we mustbe content. For my part, I shall be satisfied with a country estate onthe water, a sufficient supply of money and, above all, Barine. What doI care for Egypt? As Caesar's son I ought to have ruled Rome; but theimmortals knew what they were doing when they prompted my father todisinherit me. To govern the world one must have less need of sleep.Really--you know it--I always feel tired, even when I am well. Peoplemust let me alone! Your father, too, Antyllus, is laying down his armsand letting things go as they will."
"Ah, so he is!" cried Antony's son indignantly. "But just wait! Thesleeping lion will wake again, and, when he uses his teeth and paws--"
"My mother will run away, and your father will follow her," repliedCaesarion with a melancholy smile, wholly untinged by scorn. "All islost. But conquered kings and queens are permitted to live. Caesar'sson will not be exhibited to the Quirites in the triumphal procession.Rhodon says that there would be an insurrection if I appeared in theForum. If I go there again, it certainly will not be in Octavianus'strain. I am not suited for that kind of ignominy. It would stifle meand, ere I would grant any man the pleasure of dragging the son ofCaesar behind him to increase his own renown, I would put an end--ten,nay, a hundred times over, in the good old Roman fashion, to my life,which is by no means especially attractive. What is sweeter than soundsleep, and who will disturb and rouse me when Death has lowered historch before me? But now I think I shall be spared this extreme.Whatever else they may inflict upon me will scarcely exceed my powers ofendurance. If any one has learned contentment it is I. The King of kingsand Co-Regent of the Great Queen has been trained persistently, and withexcellent success, to be content. What should I be, and what am I? YetI do not complain, and wish to accuse no one. We need not summonOctavianus, and when he is here let him take what he will if he onlyspares the lives of my mother, the twins, and little Alexander, whom Ilove, and bestows on me the estate--the main thing is that it must befull of fishponds--of which I spoke. The private citizen Caesarion, whodevotes his time to fishing and the books he likes to read, will gladlybe allowed to choose a wife to suit his own taste. The more humble herorigin, the more easily I shall win the consent of the Roman guardian."
"Do you know, Caesarion," interrupted Antony's unruly son, leaning backon the cushions and stretching his feet farther in front of him, "ifyou were not the King of kings I should be inclined to call you a base,mean-natured fellow! One who has the good fortune to be the son ofJulius Caesar ought not to forget it so disgracefully. My gall overflowsat your whimpering. By the dog! It was one of my most senseless pranksto take you to the singer. I should think there would be other things tooccupy the mind of the King of kings. Besides, Barine cares no more foryou than the last fish you caught. She showed that plainly enough. I sayonce more, if Derketaeus's men succeed in capturing the beauty whohas robbed you of your senses, she won't go with you to your miserableestate to cook the fish you catch, for if we have her again, and myfather holds out his hand to her, all your labour will be in vain. Hesaw the fair enchantress only twice, and had no time to become betteracquainted, but she captured his fancy and, if I remind him of her, whoknows what will happen?"
Here Cleopatra beckoned to her companion and returned to her apartmentswith drooping head. On reaching them, she broke the silence, saying:"Listening, Charmian, is unworthy of a Queen; but if all listenersheard things so painful, one need no longer guard keyholes and chinks ofdoors. I must recover my calmness ere I receive Eros. One thing more. IsBarine's hiding-place secure?"
"I don't know--Archibius says so."
"Very well. They are searching for her zealously enough, as you heard,and she must not be found. I am glad that she did not set a snare forthe boy. How a jealous heart leads us astray! Were she here, I wouldgrant her anything to make amends for my unjust suspicion of her andAntony. And to think that Alexas--but for your interposition he wouldhave succeeded--meant to send her to the mines! It is a terrible warningto be on my guard. Against whom? First of all, my own weakness. This isa day of recognition. A noble aim, but on the way the feet bleed, andthe heart--ah! Charmian, the poor, weak, disappointed heart!"
She sighed heavily, and supported her head on the arm resting uponthe table at her side. The polished, exquisitely grained surface ofthya-wood was worth a large estate; the gems in the rings and braceletswhich glittered on her hand and arm would have purchased a principality.This thought entered her mind and, overpowered by a feeling of angrydisgust, she would fain have cast all the costly rubbish into the sea orthe destroying flames.
She would gladly have been a beggar, content with the barley bread ofEpicurus, she said to herself, if in return she could but have inspiredher son even with the views of the reckless blusterer Antyllus. Herworst fears had not pictured Caesarion so weak, so insignificant. Shecould no longer rest upon her cushions; and while, with drooping head,she gazed backward over the past, the accusing voice in her own breastcried out that she was reaping what she had sowed. She had repressed,curbed the boy's awakening will to secure his obedience; understood howto prevent any exercise of his ability or efforts in wider circles.
True, it had been done on many a pretext. Why should not her son tastethe quiet happiness which she had enjoyed in the garden of Epicurus? Andwas not the requirement that whoever is to command must first learn toobey, based upon old experiences?
But this was a day of reckoning and insight, and for the first time shefound courage to confess that her own burning ambition had marked outthe course of Caesarion's education. She had not repressed his talentsfrom cool calculation, but it had been pleasant to her to see him growup free from aspirations. She had granted the dreamer repose withoutarousing him. How often she had rejoiced over the certainty that thisson, on whom Antony, after his victory over the Parthians, hadbestowed the title of Co-Regent, would never rebel against his mother'sguardianship! The welfare of the state had doubtless been better securedin her trained hands than in those of an inexperienced boy. And theproud consciousness of power! Her heart swelled. So long as she livedshe would remain Queen. To transfer the sovereignty to another, whatevername he might bear, had seemed to her impossible. Now she knew howlittle her son yearned for lofty things. Her heart contracted. Thesaying "You reap what you sowed" gave her no peace, and wherever sheturned in her past life she perceived the fruit of the seeds which shehad buried in the ground. The field was sinking under the burden of theears of misfortune. The harvest was ripe for the reaper; but, ere heraised the sickle, the owner's claim must be preserved. Gorgias musthasten the building of the tomb; the end could not be long deferred. Howto shape this worthily, if the victor left her no other choice, had justbeen pointed out by the son of whom she was ashamed. His father's nobleblood forbade him to bear the deepest ignominy with the patience hismother had inculcated.
It had grown late ere she admitted Antony's body-slave, but for her thebusiness of the night was just commencing. After he had gone she wouldbe engaged for hours with the commanders of the army, the fleet, thefortifications. The soliciting of allies, too, must be carried on bymeans o
f letters containing the most stirring appeals to the heart.
Eros, Antony's body-slave, appeared. His kind eyes filled with tearsat the sight of the Queen. Grief had not lessened the roundness of hishandsome face, but the expression of mischievous, often insolent, gaietyhad given place to a sorrowful droop of the lips, and his fair hair hadbegun to turn grey.
Lucilius's information that Cleopatra had consented to make advancesto Antony had seemed like the rising of the sun after a long period ofdarkness. In his eyes, not only his master, but everything else, mustyield to the power of the Queen. He had heard Antony at Tarsus inveighagainst "the Egyptian serpent," protesting that he would make her payso dearly for her questionable conduct towards himself and the causeof Caesar that the treasure-houses on the Nile should be like an emptywine-skin; yet, a few hours after, body and soul had been in her toils.So it had continued till the battle of Actium. Now there was nothingmore to lose; but what might not Cleopatra bestow upon his master?He thought of the delightful years during which his face had grown soround, and every day fresh pleasures and spectacles, such as theworld would never again witness, had satiated eye and ear, palate andnostril,--nay, even curiosity. If they could be repeated, even in asimpler form, so much the better. His main--nay, almost his sole-desirewas to release his lord from this wretched solitude, this horriblemisanthropy, so ill suited to his nature.
Cleopatra had kept him waiting two hours, but he would willingly haveloitered in the anteroom thrice as long if she only determined to followhis counsel. It was worth considering, and Eros did not hesitate to giveit. No one could foresee how Antony would greet Cleopatra herself, so heproposed that she should send Charmian--not alone, but with her cleverhunch-backed maid, to whom the Imperator himself had given the name"Aisopion." He liked Charmian, and could never see the dusky maidwithout jesting with her. If his master could once be induced to showa cheerful face to others besides himself, Eros, and perceived how muchbetter it was to laugh than to lapse into sullen reverie and anger, muchwould be gained, and Charmian would do the rest, if she brought a lovingmessage from her royal mistress.
Hitherto Cleopatra had not interrupted him; but when she expressed theopinion that a slave's nimble tongue would have little power to changethe deep despondency of a man overwhelmed by the most terrible disaster,Eros waved his short, broad hand, saying:
"I trust your Majesty will pardon the frankness of a man so humble indegree, but those in high station often permit us to see what they hidefrom one another. Only the loftiest and the lowliest, the gods and theslaves, behold the great without disguise. May my ears be cropped ifthe Imperator's melancholy and misanthropy are so intense! All this isa disguise which pleases him. You know how, in better days, he enjoyedappearing as Dionysus, and with what wanton gaiety he played the partof the god. Now he is hiding his real, cheerful face behind the maskof unsocial melancholy, because he thinks the former does not suit thistime of misfortune. True, he often says things which make your skincreep, and frequently broods mournfully over his own thoughts. Butthis never lasts long when we are alone. If I come in with a very funnystory, and he doesn't silence me at once, you can rely on his surpassingit with a still more comical one. A short time ago I reminded him of thefishing party when your Majesty had a diver fasten a salted herring onhis hook. You ought to have heard him laugh, and exclaim what happy daysthose were. The lady Charmian need only remind him of them, and Aisopionspice the allusion with a jest. I'll give my nose--true, it's onlya small one, but everybody values that feature most--if they don'tpersuade him to leave that horrible crow's nest in the middle of thesea. They must remind him of the twins and little Alexander; for when hepermits me to talk about them his brow smooths most speedily. He stillspeaks very often to Lucilius and his other friends of his greatplans of forming a powerful empire in the East, with Alexandria as itsprincipal city. His warrior blood is not yet calm. A short time agoI was even ordered to sharpen the curved Persian scimitar he likes towield. One could not know what service it might be, he said. Then heswung his mighty arm. By the dog! The grey-haired giant still has thestrength of three youths. When he is once more with you, among warriorsand battle chargers, all will be well."
"Let us hope so." replied Cleopatra kindly, and promised to follow hisadvice.
When Iras, who had taken Charmian's place, accompanied the Queen to herchamber after several hours of toil, she found her silent and sad. Lostin thought, she accepted her attendant's aid, breaking her silence onlyafter she had gone to her couch. "This has been a hard day, Iras,"she said; "it brought nothing save the confirmation of an old saying,perhaps the most ancient in the world: 'Every one wilt reap only what hesows. The plant which grows from the seed you place in the earth maybe crushed, but no power in the world will compel the seed to developdifferently or produce fruit unlike what Nature has assigned to it.' Myseed was evil. This now appears in the time of harvest. But we will yetbring a handful of good wheat to the storehouses. We will provide forthat while there is time. I will talk with Gorgias early to-morrowmorning. While we were building, you showed good taste and oftensuggested new ideas. When Gorgias brings the plans for the mausoleum youshall examine them with me. You have a right to do so, for, if I am notmistaken, few will visit the finished structure more frequently than myIras."
The girl started up and, raising her hand as if taking a vow, exclaimed:"Your tomb will vainly wait my visit; your end will be mine also."
"May the gods preserve your youth from it!" replied the Queen in a toneof grave remonstrance. "We still live and will do battle."