Suicide was a virtue among the ancients; the final act imposed on them by misfortune. When life was no longer the distaff from which Clotho spun days of silk and gold, they gave it up, simply, as a useless thing. To put an end to himself Antony had the soldier's recourse, his sword, which, like that of Cato and of Brutus, was always at hand against the moment when he saw that the game was finally lost. Cleopatra's death would be more difficult. For those whose path through life has been strewn with flowers, whom youth still holds with magic arms, that last leap in the dark is a rude shock. To die was easy, but it must be done so that the accustomed harmony of life be not disturbed. How could she manage so that her lovely features, her fragrant body, should not be marred? As an artist who wanted to keep her place before the coming ages, pretending that her death had been a glorious one, Cleopatra had given much thought to this subject. She was prejudiced against using the ordinary poisons of the time. Perfectly familiar with the method employed to punish a conspirator, to get rid of an unworthy minister, or of an undesirable husband, she preferred the knife which left its deadly mark. The result of the usual poisons left her indifferent. What matter how many convulsions a dying enemy had? But for herself she wanted to study the matter carefully. She summoned Olympus, the celebrated physician. He was versed in all branches of his art, having studied the effects of certain plants in Assyria, such as henbane and belladonna, which latter caused death or recovery, according to the strength of the dose. In making her desire known to him the Queen said: "Your fortune is made if you give me the means of quitting life painlessly and with no risk of spoiling my beauty." Olympus was thoughtful. The Queen's demand was beyond his power; but he would do his best. He got together a group of physicians and they set to work. From the mysterious laboratory in a retired corner of the palace which had been set aside for them, red lights burned at night and sickly, bitter odours went up. Experiments soon began. They were made on criminals who were condemned to punishment. The first results were terrifying. Forced to drink the deadly liquid, the unfortunate men writhed, their twisted limbs beat against the air, their distorted faces took on a greenish hue, and a hissing sound came from their dry throats. And this went on and on--prolonged indefinitely. New combinations gave better results. The patients had a burning sensation, but the poison devoured them quickly and they fell, asphyxiated. "Try again, again," commanded Cleopatra. "Your reward will be in proportion to your success." One morning, Olympus requested an audience. His eyes shone under his bushy brows. At last he had found the right thing.