As soon as Octavius was established in his camp under the walls of the city, Antony planned a sally, and he executed it, in fact, with considerable energy and success.  He issued suddenly from the gates, at the head of as strong a force as he could command, and attacked a body of Octavius’s horsemen.  He succeeded in driving these horsemen away from their position, but he was soon driven back in his turn, and compelled to retreat to the city, fighting as he fled, to beat back his pursuers.  He was extremely elated at the success of this skirmish.  He came to Cleopatra with a countenance full of animation and pleasure, took her in his arms and kissed her, all accoutered for battle as he was, and boasted greatly of the exploit which he had performed.  He praised, too, in the highest terms, the valor of one of the officers who had gone out with him to the fight, and whom he had now brought to the palace to present to Cleopatra.  Cleopatra rewarded the faithful captain’s prowess with a magnificent suit of armor made of gold.  Notwithstanding this reward, however, the man deserted Antony that very night, and went over to the enemy.  Almost all of Antony’s adherents were in the same state of mind.  They would have gladly gone over to the camp of Octavius, if they could have found an opportunity to do so.

In fact, when the final battle was fought, the fate of it was decided by a grand defection in the fleet, which went over in a body to the side of Octavius.  Antony was planning the operations of the day, and reconnoitering the movements of the enemy from an eminence which he occupied at the head of a body of foot soldiers—­all the land forces that now remained to him—­and looking off, from the eminence on which he stood, toward the harbor, he observed a movement among the galleys.  They were going out to meet the ships of Octavius, which were lying at anchor not very far from them.  Antony supposed that his vessels were going to attack those of the enemy, and he looked to see what exploits they would perform.  They advanced toward Octavius’s ships, and when they met them, Antony observed, to his utter amazement, that, instead of the furious combat that he had expected to see, the ships only exchanged friendly salutations, by the use of the customary naval signals; and then his ships, passing quietly round, took their positions in the lines of the other fleet.  The two fleets had thus become merged and mingled into one.

Antony immediately decided that this was Cleopatra’s treason.  She had made peace with Octavius, he thought, and surrendered the fleet to him as one of the conditions of it.  Antony ran through the city, crying out that he was betrayed, and in a frensy of rage sought the palace.  Cleopatra fled to her tomb.  She took in with her one or two attendants, and bolted and barred the doors, securing the fastenings with the heavy catches and springs that she had previously made ready.  She then directed her women to call out through the door that she had killed herself within the tomb.