The Syrian hastened towards her, extolling the good fortune that made his sun rise for him a second time that night, but she cut him short with the words; “Cease this foolish love-making.  It would be far better for us both to become allies in serious, bitter earnest.  I am ready.”

“So am I!” cried the Syrian rapturously, pressing his hand upon his heart.

Meanwhile Cleopatra had entered the chamber where the children lay sleeping.  Deep silence pervaded the lofty hall hung with bright-hued carpets, and softly lighted by three lamps with rose-colored globes.  An arch, supported by pillars of Libyan marble, divided the wide space.  In the first, near a window closely muffled with draperies, stood two ivory beds, surmounted with crowns of gold and silver set with pearls and turquoises.  Around the edge, carved by the hands of a great artist, ran a line of happy children dancing to the songs of birds in blossoming bushes.

The couches were separated by a heavy curtain which the eunuchs had raised at the approach of the Queen.  Cleopatra could now see them all at a single glance, and the picture was indeed one of exquisite charm; for on these beautiful couches slept the twins, the ten-year-old children of Cleopatra and Antony—­Antonius Helios and Cleopatra Selene.  The girl was pink and white, fair and wonderfully lovely; the boy no less beautiful, but with ebon-black hair, like his father.  Both curly heads were turned towards the side, and rested on a dimpled hand pressed upon the silken pillow.

Upon a third bed, beyond the arch, was Alexander, the youngest prince, a lovely boy of six, the Queen’s darling.

After gazing a long while at the twins, and pressing a light kiss upon cheeks flushed with slumber, she turned to the youngest child and sank beside his couch as if forced to bend the knee before some apparition which Heaven had vouchsafed to her.  Tears streamed from her eyes as, drawing the child carefully towards her, she kissed his mouth, eyes, and cheeks, and then laid him gently back upon the pillows.  The boy, however, did not instantly relapse into slumber, but threw his little plump arms around his mother’s neck, murmuring incomprehensible words.  She joyously submitted to his caresses, till sleep again overpowered him, and his little hands fell back upon the bed.

She lingered a short time longer, with her brow resting on the ivory of the couch, praying for this child and his brother and sister.  When she rose again her cheeks were wet with tears, and she pressed her hand upon her breast.  Then, beckoning to Charmian and Archibius, she motioned towards Alexander and the twins, saying, as she saw tears glittering in the eyes of both:  “I know you have lost this happiness for my sake.  For each one of these children a great empire would not be too high a price; for them all——­What does earth contain that I would not bestow?  Yet what can I still call my own?”