“Not altogether done,” she answered gently; “the arena must yet be sanded!” This she said having reference to the covering up of the bloodstains at the gladiatorial shows with fine sand.  “Well,” she went on, “waste not thine anger on a thing so vile.  I have thrown my throw and I have lost. Vae victis!—­ah! Vae victis! Wilt thou not lend me the dagger in thy robe, that here and now I may end my shame?  No?  Then one word more, most royal Harmachis:  if thou canst, forget my folly; but, at the least, have no fear from me.  I am now, as ever, thy servant and the servant of our cause.  Farewell!”

And she went, leaning her hand against the wall.  But I, passing to my chamber, flung myself upon my couch, and groaned in bitterness of spirit.  Alas! we shape our plans, and by slow degrees build up our house of Hope, never counting on the guests that time shall bring to lodge therein.  For who can guard against—­the Unforeseen?

At length I slept, and my dreams were evil.  When I woke the light of the day which should see the red fulfilment of the plot was streaming through the casement, and the birds sang merrily among the garden palms.  I woke, and as I woke the sense of trouble pressed in upon me, for I remembered that before this day was gathered to the past I must dip my hands in blood—­yes, in the blood of Cleopatra, who trusted me!  Why could I not hate her as I should?  There had been a time when I looked on to this act of vengeance with somewhat of a righteous glow of zeal.  And now—­and now—­why, I would frankly give my royal birthright to be free from its necessity!  But, alas!  I knew that there was no escape.  I must drain this cup or be for ever cast away.  I felt the eyes of Egypt watching me, and the eyes of Egypt’s Gods.  I prayed to my Mother Isis to give me strength to do this deed, and prayed as I had never prayed before; and oh, wonder! no answer came.  Nay, how was this?  What, then, had loosed the link between us that, for the first time, the Goddess deigned no reply to her son and chosen servant?  Could it be that I had sinned in heart against her?  What had Charmion said—­that I loved Cleopatra?  Was this sickness love?  Nay! a thousand times nay!—­it was but the revolt of Nature against an act of treachery and blood.  The Goddess did but try my strength, or perchance she also turned her holy countenance from murder?

I rose filled with terror and despair, and went about my task like a man without a soul.  I conned the fatal lists and noted all the plans—­ay, in my brain I gathered up the very words of that proclamation of my Royalty which, on the morrow, I should issue to the startled world.

“Citizens of Alexandria and dwellers in the land of Egypt,” it began, “Cleopatra the Macedonian hath, by the command of the Gods, suffered justice for her crimes——­”