“I hoped so!”

Euergetes withdrew a step from his sister, and said:  “You were right.  It is not only among the race of gods that the most fearful of all are women!”

“What have you to say?” retorted Cleopatra.  “And am I to believe that a toothache has kept the Roman away from the banquet yesterday, and again from coming to see me to-day?  Am I to repeat, after you, that he died of it?  Now, speak out, for it rejoices my heart to hear it; where and how did the insolent hypocrite meet his end?”

“A serpent stung him,” replied Euergetes, turning from his sister.  “It was in the desert, not far from the Apis-tombs.”

“He had an assignation in the Necropolis at midnight—­it would seem to have begun more pleasantly than it ended?”

Euergetes nodded assent to the question, and added gravely: 

“His fate overtook him—­but I cannot see anything very pleasing in the matter.”

“No?” asked the queen.  “And do you think that I do not know the asp that ended that life in its prime?  Do you think that I do not know, who set the poisoned serpent on the Roman?  You are the assassin, and Eulaeus and his accomplices have helped you!  Only yesterday I would have given my heart’s blood for Publius, and would rather have carried you to the grave than him; but to-day, now that I know the game that the wretch has been playing with me, I would even have taken on myself the bloody deed which, as it is, stains your hands.  Not even a god should treat your sister with such contempt—­should insult her as he has done—­and go unpunished!  Another has already met the same fate, as you know—­Eustorgos, Hipparchon of Bithynia, who, while he seemed to be dying of love for me, was courting Kallistrata my lady in waiting; and the wild beasts and serpents exercised their dark arts on him too.  Eulaeus’ intelligence has fallen on you, who are powerful, like a cold hand on your heart; in me, the weak woman, it rouses unspeakable delight.  I gave him the best of all a woman has to bestow, and he dared to trample it in the dust; and had I no right to require of him that he should pour out the best that he had, which was his life, in the same way as he had dared to serve mine, which is my love?  I have a right to rejoice at his death.  Aye! the heavy lids now close those bright eyes which could be falser than the stern lips that were so apt to praise truth.  The faithless heart is forever still which could scorn the love of a queen—­and for what?  For whom?  Oh, ye pitiful gods!”

With these words the queen sobbed aloud, hastily lifting her hands to cover her eyes, and ran to the door by which she had entered her brother’s rooms.

But Euergetes stood in her way, and said sternly and positively: 

“You are to stay here till I return.  Collect yourself, for at the next event which this momentous day will bring forth it will be my turn to laugh while your blood shall run cold.”  And with a few swift steps he left the hall.