“Nay, Sire,” I answered. “If thou dost yield, then art thou doomed. All last night I questioned of the Fates concerning thee, and I saw this: when thy star draws near to Cæsar’s it pales and is swallowed up; but when it passes from his radiance, then bright and big it shines, equal in glory to his own. All is not lost, and while some part remains, everything may be regained. Egypt can yet be held, armies can still be raised. Cæsar has withdrawn himself; he is not yet at the gates of Alexandria, and perchance may be appeased. Thy mind in its fever has fired thy body; thou art sick and canst not judge aright. See, here, I have a potion that shall make thee whole, for I am well skilled in the art of medicine,” and I held out the phial. “A potion, thou sayest man!” he cried. “More like it is a poison, and thou a murderer, sent by false Egypt, who would fain be rid of me now that I may no more be of service to her. The head of Antony is the peace offering she would send to Cæsar--she for whom I have lost all! Give me thy draught. By Bacchus! I will drink it, though it be the very elixir of Death!” “Nay, noble Antony; it is no poison, and I am no murderer. See, I will taste it, if thou wilt,” and I held forth the subtle drink that has the power to fire the veins of men. “Give it me, Physician. Desperate men are brave men. There!----Why, what is this? Yours is a magic draught! My sorrows seem to roll away like thunder-clouds before the southern gale, and the spring of Hope blooms fresh upon the desert of my heart. Once more I am Antony, and once again I see my legions’ spears asparkle in the sun, and hear the thunderous shout of welcome as Antony--beloved Antony--rides in pomp of war along his deep-formed lines! There’s hope! there’s hope! I may yet see the cold brows of Cæsar--that Cæsar who never errs except from policy--robbed of their victor bays and crowned with shameful dust!” “Ay,” cried Charmion, “there still is hope, if thou wilt but play the man! O my Lord! come back with us; come back to the loving arms of Cleopatra! All night she lies upon her golden bed, and fills the hollow darkness with her groans for ‘Antony!’ who, enamoured now of Grief, forgets his duty and his love!” “I come! I come! Shame upon me, that I dared to doubt her! Slave, bring water, and a purple robe: not thus can I be seen of Cleopatra. Even now I come.” In this fashion, then, did we draw Antony back to Cleopatra, that the ruin of the twain might be made sure. We led him up the Alabaster Hall and into Cleopatra’s chamber, where she lay, her cloudy hair about her face and breast, and tears flowing from her deep eyes. “O Egypt!” he cried, “behold me at thy feet!” She sprang from the couch. “And art thou here, my love?” she murmured; “then once again are all things well. Come near, and in these arms forget thy sorrows and turn my grief to joy. Oh, Antony, while love is left to us, still have we all!” And she fell upon his breast and kissed him wildly.