While Charmian protested that no one save Dion had ever been heard with favour by Barine, and related many incidents of her former life, Cleopatra’s thoughts were with Antony.  Like the image of the beloved dead, the towering figure of the Roman hero rose before her mind, but she recalled him only as he was prior to the battle of Actium.  She desired and expected nothing more from the broken-spirited man, whose condition was perhaps her own fault.  But she had resolved to atone for her guilt, and would do so at the cost of throne and life.  This settled the account.  Whatever her remaining span of existence might add or subtract, was part of the bargain.

The entrance of Alexas interrupted her.  With fiery passion he expressed his regret that he had been defrauded by base intrigues of the right bestowed upon him to pass sentence upon a guilty woman.  This was the more difficult to bear because he was deprived of the possibility of providing for the pursuit of the fugitive.  Antony had honoured him with the commission to win Herod back to his cause.  He was to leave Alexandria that very night.  As nothing could be expected in this matter from the misanthropic Imperator, he hoped that the Queen would avenge such an offence to her dignity, and adopt severe measures towards the singer and her last lover, Dion, who with sacrilegious hands had wounded the son of Caesar.

But Cleopatra, with royal dignity, kept him within the limits of his position, commanded him not to mention the affair to her again, and then, with a sorrowful smile, wished him success with Herod, in whose return to the lost cause of Antony, however, much as she prized the skill of the mediator, she did not believe.

When he had retired, she exclaimed to Charmian:  “Was I blind?  This man is a traitor!  We shall discover it.  Wherever Dion has taken his young wife, let her be carefully concealed, not from me, but from this Syrian.  It is easier to defend one’s self against the lion than the scorpion.  You, my friend, will see that Archibius seeks me this very day.  I must talk with him, and—­you no longer have any thought of a parting?  Another will come soon enough, which will forever forbid these lips from kissing your dear face.”

As she spoke, she again clasped the companion of her childhood in her arms, and when Iras entered to request an audience for Lucilius, Antony’s most faithful friend, Cleopatra, who had noticed the younger woman’s envious glance at the embrace, said:  “Was I mistaken in fancying that you imagined yourself slighted for Charmian, who is an older friend?  That would be wrong; for I love and need you both.  You are her niece, and indebted to her for much kindness from your earliest childhood.  So, even though you will lose the joy of revenge upon a hated enemy, forget what has happened, as I did, and maintain your former affectionate companionship.  I will reward you for it with the only thing that the daughter of the wealthy Krates cannot purchase, yet which she probably rates at no low value—­the love of her royal friend.”