But Antony was tormented by one ever-recurring doubt: what did Cleopatra really feel in regard to him? She had always been most gracious in her manner, but discreet at all times, careful not to give Cæsar the least ground for jealousy. What had she thought of him that day when, alone together for a moment, he had not been able to resist kissing her exquisite bare shoulder? She seemed like a beautiful sphinx, as, without remonstrance, without a smile, she had turned away and silently left the room. Was it love of the great Cæsar that made her so prudent, or the fear of losing his powerful protection? He had never understood her complex personality; he could not forget her feline grace, and those eyes which had stirred his innermost depths and had left him wondering, as does the mysterious beauty of a night in spring. What had she been doing for the past two years? He was utterly ignorant of her life, of her interests, and he longed to see her once more. Antony, however, was not yet entirely in the power of these desires. The duties and responsibilities of his position were the chief factors in his life. He was fully alive to the necessity of visiting the new provinces that had come under his care, of giving them the protection which they had a right to expect from him. What excuse did he have for going first to Egypt? It was not, strictly speaking, a Roman province and could well afford to wait. Besides, it was not a good season for crossing. So Antony sailed for Greece. It was not his first visit to that noble country. He had already trod the fields of Thessaly when, as a young commander, he had opposed Pompey. He had seen the wonderful temples of Delphi, Corinth, Olympia, with their wealth of sculpture and incomparable jewels. He had lingered in the forest of Eleusis, and in the theatre of Epidaurus he had been transported in spirit to the prophetic realms of the art of Æschylus. How thrilling it would be to revisit all these scenes! To come to them, clothed in majesty and with unlimited power! The Greeks had become accustomed to foreign rule and no longer hated their conquerors. Indeed they had a certain regard for this Roman soldier who was said to be as handsome as Alcibiades and comparable to Themistocles in his warlike virtues. Among a people who counted physical strength and beauty as the highest gifts the gods could bestow, this son of Hercules had every chance of winning all hearts. He was welcomed graciously according to the custom of the country. The villages sent groups of men, bearing branches by day and torches by night, to escort his litter. As he entered the cities young girls greeted him with showers of roses, and a chorus of young men sang and danced to the music of lyres.