“We swear!” they cried.  “Noble Antony, we swear!”

“It is well!  Once more my star grows bright; to-morrow, set in the highest heaven, it yet may shine the lamp of Caesar down!  Till then, farewell!”

He turned to go.  As he went they caught his hand and kissed it; and so deeply were they moved that many wept like children; nor could Antony master his grief, for, in the moonlight, I saw tears roll down his furrowed cheeks and fall upon that mighty breast.

And, seeing all this, I was much troubled.  For I well knew that if these men held firm to Antony all might yet go well for Cleopatra; and though I bore no ill-will against Antony, yet he must fall, and in that fall drag down the woman who, like some poisonous plant, had twined herself about his giant strength till it choked and mouldered in her embrace.

Therefore, when Antony went I went not, but stood back in the shadow watching the faces of the lords and captains as they spoke together.

“Then it is agreed!” said he who should lead the fleet.  “And this we swear to, one and all, that we will cling to noble Antony to the last extremity of fortune!”

“Ay! ay!” they answered.

“Ay! ay!” I said, speaking from the shadow; “cling, and die!”

They turned fiercely and seized me.

“Who is he?” quoth one.

“’Tis that dark-faced dog, Olympus!” cried another.  “Olympus, the magician!”

“Olympus, the traitor!” growled another; “put an end to him and his magic!” and he drew his sword.

“Ay! slay him; he would betray the Lord Antony, whom he is paid to doctor.”

“Hold a while!” I said in a slow and solemn voice, “and beware how ye try to murder the servant of the Gods.  I am no traitor.  For myself, I abide the event here in Alexandria, but to you I say, Flee, flee to Caesar!  I serve Antony and the Queen—­I serve them truly; but above all I serve the Holy Gods; and what they make known to me, that, Lords, I do know.  And I know this:  that Antony is doomed, and Cleopatra is doomed, for Caesar conquers.  Therefore, because I honour you, noble gentlemen, and think with pity on your wives, left widowed, and your little fatherless children, that shall, if ye hold to Antony, be sold as slaves—­therefore, I say, cling to Antony if ye will and die; or flee to Caesar and be saved!  And this I say because it is so ordained of the Gods.”

“The Gods!” they growled; “what Gods?  Slit the traitor’s throat, and stop his ill-omened talk!”

“Let him show us a sign from his Gods or let him die:  I do mistrust this man,” said another.