Even in my fury I had quailed beneath her scorn, for home flew the arrows of her winged words.  Alas! and alas! it was true—­the shaft of my vengeance fell upon my own head; never had I loved her as I loved her now.  My soul was rent with jealous torture, and thus I swore she should not die.

“Peace!” I cried; “what peace is there for thee?  Oh! ye Holy Three, hear now my prayer.  Osiris, loosen Thou the bonds of Hell and send forth those whom I shall summon!  Come Ptolemy, poisoned of thy sister Cleopatra; come Arsinoe, murdered in the sanctuary by thy sister Cleopatra; come Sepa, tortured to death of Cleopatra; come Divine Menkau-ra, whose body Cleopatra tore and whose curse she braved for greed; come one, come all who have died at the hands of Cleopatra!  Rush from the breast of Nout and greet her who murdered you!  By the link of mystic union, by the symbol of the Life, Spirits, I summon you!”

Thus I spoke the spell; while Charmion, affrighted, clung to my robe, and the dying Cleopatra, resting on her hands, swung slowly to and fro, gazing with vacant eyes.

Then the answer came.  The casement burst asunder, and on flittering wings that great bat entered which last I had seen hanging to the eunuch’s chin in the womb of the pyramid of Her.  Thrice it circled round, once it hovered o’er dead Iras, then flew to where the dying woman stood.  To her it flew, on her breast it settled, clinging to that emerald which was dragged from the dead heart of Menkau-ra.  Thrice the grey Horror screamed aloud, thrice it beat its bony wings, and lo! it was gone.

Then suddenly within that chamber sprang up the Shapes of Death.  There was Arsinoe, the beautiful, even as she had shrunk beneath the butcher’s knife.  There was young Ptolemy, his features twisted by the poisoned cup.  There was the majesty of Menkau-ra, crowned with the uraeus crown; there was grave Sepa, his flesh all torn by the torturer’s hooks; there were those poisoned slaves; and there were others without number, shadowy and dreadful to behold! who, thronging that narrow chamber, stood silently fixing their glassy eyes upon the face of her who slew them!

“Behold!  Cleopatra!” I said. “Behold thy peace, and die!”

“Ay!” said Charmion.  “Behold and die! thou who didst rob me of my honour, and Egypt of her King!”

She looked, she saw the awful Shapes—­her Spirit, hurrying from the flesh, mayhap could hear words to which my ears were deaf.  Then her face sank in with terror, her great eyes grew pale, and, shrieking, Cleopatra fell and died:  passing, with that dread company, to her appointed place.

Thus, then, I, Harmachis, fed my soul with vengeance, fulfilling the justice of the Gods, and yet knew myself empty of all joy therein.  For though that thing we worship doth bring us ruin, and Love being more pitiless than Death, we in turn do pay all our sorrow back; yet we must worship on, yet stretch out our arms towards our lost Desire, and pour our heart’s blood upon the shrine of our discrowned God.