‘I am not troubled, Cleopatra,’ he said, ‘to be at present bereaved of you, for I shall soon be with you, but it distresses me that so great a general should be found of a tardier courage than a woman.’ Then he called his servant Eros, who had sworn to put him to death when he should demand it, and bade him now fulfil his promise. Silently the faithful servant drew his sword, not to kill his master--that he found he could not do--but to slay himself. When Antony saw that his servant was dead, he cried, ‘It is well done, Eros; you show your master how to do what you had not the heart to do yourself.’ He then threw himself upon his sword, but the wound did not at once cause his death. As Antony lay dying upon his couch, a messenger came from Cleopatra to tell him that she was not dead, but alive and in the mausoleum. The dying man begged to be taken to her, and his servants carried him to the door of the tomb. Then the queen, looking out of her window, saw him lying below wounded and near to death. She had only her two women Iras and Charmian with her, and so, instead of tarrying to open the heavy door with its numerous bolts, she let down cords from the window. When these had been fastened round Antony, Cleopatra and her two women, slowly and painfully pulled up the wounded man and dragged him through the window into the mausoleum. Gently the queen laid Antony on her bed and wept over him, calling him her Emperor and her Lord. But Antony, after drinking a little wine, bade her not to mourn for him, for he had ‘fallen not ignobly, a Roman by a Roman overcome.’ With these words upon his lips he died. When Cæsar heard of the death of Antony, he wept, for he thought of the many dangers that they had shared together, and of the friendship that Octavia had tried to foster between them. Then he quickly sent one of his officers named Proculeius to Cleopatra, bidding him see that she was safe, for he still cherished the wish to take her alive to Rome, that she might adorn his triumph. When he reached the door of the mausoleum Proculeius found that it was barred, so he took a ladder, fixed it on to the window and climbed up, and entered the room before the queen was aware. ‘Miserable Cleopatra, you are taken prisoner,’ cried one of her women. Then quick as lightning the queen drew a dagger which she had hidden in her dress, and would have stabbed herself had not Proculeius seized her hands, at the same time reproaching her for not trusting Cæsar to prove a generous foe. He then took away the dagger, and shook her clothes lest she had hidden poison in them.