For a while Cleopatra answered not, but sat like the Sphinx Horemkhu, dumb and inscrutable, gazing with lost eyes down the length of that great hall.

Then, like soft music, her answer came; and trembling I listened for Egypt’s challenge to the Roman: 

“Noble Dellius,—­We have bethought us much of the matter of thy message from great Antony to our poor Royalty of Egypt.  We have bethought us much, and we have taken counsel from the oracles of the Gods, from the wisest among our friends, and from the teachings of our heart, that ever, like a nesting bird, broods over our people’s weal.  Sharp are the words that thou has brought across the sea; methinks they had been better fitted to the ears of some petty half-tamed prince than to those of Egypt’s Queen.  Therefore we have numbered the legions that we can gather, and the triremes and the galleys wherewith we may breast the sea, and the moneys which shall buy us all things wanting to our war.  And we find this, that, though Antony be strong, yet has Egypt naught to fear from the strength of Antony.”

She paused, and a murmur of applause of her high words ran down the hall.  Only Dellius stretched out his hand as though to push them back.  Then came the end!

“Noble Dellius,—­Half are we minded there to bid our tongue stop, and, strong in our fortresses of stone, and our other fortresses built of the hearts of men, abide the issue.  And yet thou shalt not go thus.  We are guiltless of those charges against us that have come to the ears of noble Antony, and which now he rudely shouts in ours; nor will we journey into Cilicia to answer them.”

Here the murmur arose anew, while my heart beat high in triumph; and in the pause that followed, Dellius spoke once more.

“Then, royal Egypt, my word to Antony is word of War?”

“Nay,” she answered; “it shall be one of Peace.  Listen; we said that we would not come to make answer to these charges, nor will we.  But”—­and she smiled for the first time—­“we will gladly come, and that swiftly, in royal friendship to make known our fellowship of peace upon the banks of Cydnus.”

I heard, and was bewildered.  Could I hear aright?  Was it thus that Cleopatra kept her oaths?  Moved beyond the hold of reason, I lifted up my voice and cried: 

“O Queen, remember!”

She turned upon me like a lioness, with a flashing of the eyes and a swift shake of her lovely head.

“Peace, Slave!” she said; “who bade thee break in upon our counsels?  Mind thou thy stars, and leave matters of the world to the rulers of the world!”

I sank back shamed, and, as I did so, once more I saw the smile of triumph on the face of Charmion, followed by what was, perhaps, the shadow of pity for my fall.

“Now that yon brawling charlatan,” said Dellius, pointing at me with his jewelled finger, “has been rebuked, grant me leave, O Egypt, to thank thee from my heart for these gentle words——­”