Then Eros drew his sword and Antony knelt before him and bared his breast, turning his eyes to heaven.  But Eros, crying “I cannot! oh, I cannot!” plunged the sword to his own heart, and fell dead.

Antony rose and gazed upon him.  “Why, Eros, that was nobly done,” he said.  “Thou art greater than I, yet I have learned thy lesson!” and he knelt down and kissed him.

Then, rising of a sudden, he drew the sword from the heart of Eros, plunged it into his bowels, and fell, groaning, on the couch.

“O thou, Olympus,” he cried, “this pain is more than I can bear!  Make an end of me, Olympus!”

But pity stirred me, and I could not do this thing.

Therefore I drew the sword from his vitals, staunched the flow of blood, and, calling to those who came crowding in to see Antony die, I bade them summon Atoua from my house at the palace gates.  Presently she came, bringing with her simples and life-giving draughts.  These I gave to Antony, and bade Atoua go with such speed as her old limbs might to Cleopatra, in the tomb, and tell her of the state of Antony.

So she went, and after a while returned, saying that the Queen yet lived and summoned Antony to die in her arms.  And with her came Diomedes.  When Antony heard, his ebbing strength came back, for he was fain to look upon Cleopatra’s face again.  So I called to the slaves—­who peeped and peered through curtains and from behind pillars to see this great man die—­and together, with much toil, we bore him thence till we came to the foot of the Mausoleum.

But Cleopatra, being afraid of treachery, would no more throw wide the door; so she let down a rope from the window and we made it fast beneath the arms of Antony.  Then did Cleopatra, who the while wept most bitterly, together with Charmion and Iras the Greek, pull on the rope with all their strength, while we lifted from below till the dying Antony swung in the air, groaning heavily, and the blood dropped from his gaping wound.  Twice he nearly fell to earth:  but Cleopatra, striving with the strength of love and of despair, held him till at length she drew him through the windowplace, while all who saw the dreadful sight wept bitterly, and beat their breasts—­all save myself and Charmion.

When he was in, once more the rope was let down, and, with some aid from Charmion, I climbed into the tomb, drawing up the rope after me.  There I found Antony, laid upon the golden bed of Cleopatra; and she, her breast bare, her face stained with tears, and her hair streaming wildly about him, knelt at his side and kissed him, wiping the blood from his wounds with her robes and hair.  And let all my shame be written:  as I stood and watched her the old love awoke once more within me, and mad jealousy raged in my heart because—­though I could destroy these twain—­I could not destroy their love.

“O Antony! my Sweet, my Husband, and my God!” she moaned.  “Cruel Antony, hast thou the heart to die and leave me to my lonely shame?  I will follow thee swiftly to the grave.  Antony, awake! awake!”