The words were scarcely out of his mouth when they heard a cawing above their heads. The crows were predicting evil things. It was Antony's turn to tremble. He looked at the horizon. The coming dawn revealed a monstrous fleet of ships crowded together opposite the channel. He recognized the same vessels which had faced him at Actium, and his quivering hand grasped Cleopatra's. Pressed close together, like those who are terrified on a dark road at night, they retraced their way. The steps showed white between the dark masses of the trees. They climbed up them slowly, as though weighed down by fatigue. On the last terrace they stopped. Never had the moment of leave-taking seemed so ominous. They were facing the fatal day. Their lips met. "Good-bye." "Good-bye"--and their voices died out in space. The attack of the day before had put Octavius on his guard and he had passed a sleepless night. He had exhorted his men to take a firmer stand, reproached them for being put to flight by a few companies of soldiers. "And that," he added, "at the very gates of Alexandria! At the moment when you were within reach of enough booty to have secured a home for every one of you!" No further stimulus was needed. At the same time emissaries were sowing corruption in Antony's camp. They threatened to punish with reprisals from Rome the men who remained loyal to Antony; to the others they promised an amnesty. Under these conditions the battle began. Antony's new-born hope soon fell to the ground. In the very first attack the desertions began. Seized with panic, the brave men of yesterday became the fugitives of to-day; and among them, by a cruel irony of fate, he recognized the hero on whose shoulders Cleopatra had placed the golden armour. To have thought that he could move the world according to his wish, and to look on at this! In despair Antony cast aside his buckler and exposed his bare breast to the blows. If a sword would only put an end to him! But the hour was not yet. The right to die is given only when the last effort has been made. And first, he must prevent a complete rout. Alone he undertook the titanic task. He was all over the field; on every side his wrathful gestures were seen. With the flat of his sword he threatened, he struck. His fierce voice resounded: "Miserable traitors who change masters at a word!" But his imprecations were not heard. The confusion was universal and the city fell quickly. Octavius passed the gates on horseback, all the legions following him. There was one more chance: the fleet. But there, again, treason was rampant. The men stubbornly refused to fight. Oars in hand, they welcomed as comrades the men whom yesterday they had regarded as enemies.