With these words she clasped Iras also in a close embrace, and when the latter left the room to summon Lucilius, she thought:  “No woman has ever won so much love; perhaps that is why she possesses so great a treasure of it, and can afford such unspeakable happiness by its bestowal.  Or is she so much beloved because she entered the world full of its wealth, and dispenses it as the sun diffuses light?  Surely that must be the case.  I have reason to believe it, for whom did I ever love save the Queen?  No one, not even myself, and I know no one in whose love for me I can believe.  But why did Dion, whom I loved so fervently, disdain me?  Fool!  Why did Mark Antony prefer Cleopatra to Octavia, who was not less fair, whose heart was his, and whose hand held the sovereignty of half the world?”

Passing on as she spoke, she soon returned, ushering the Roman Lucilius into the presence of the Queen.  A gallant deed had bound this man to Antony.  After the battle of Philippi, when the army of the republicans fled, Brutus had been on the point of being seized by the enemy’s horsemen; but Lucilius, at the risk of being cut down, had personated him, and thereby, though but for a short time, rescued him.  This had seemed to Antony unusual and noble and, in his generous manner, he had not only forgiven him, but bestowed his favour upon him.  Lucilius was grateful, and gave him the same fidelity he had showed to Brutus.  At Actium he had risked Antony’s favour to prevent his deserting Cleopatra after the battle, and then accompanied him in his flight.  Now he was bearing him company in his seclusion on the Choma.

The grey-haired man who, but a short time before, had retained all the vigour of youth, approached the Queen with bowed head and saddened heart.  His face, so regular in its contours, had undergone a marked change within the past few weeks.  The cheeks were sunken, the features had grown sharper, and there was a sorrowful expression in the eyes, which, when informing Cleopatra of his friend’s condition, glittered with tears.

Before the hapless battle he was one of Cleopatra’s most enthusiastic admirers; but since he had been forced to see his friend and benefactor risk fame, happiness, and honour to follow the Queen, he had cherished a feeling of bitter resentment towards her.  He would certainly have spared himself this mission, had he not been sure that she who had brought her lover to ruin was the only person who could rouse him from spiritless languor to fresh energy and interest in life.

From motives of friendship, urged by no one, he came unbidden to the woman whom he had formerly so sincerely admired, to entreat her to cheer the unfortunate man, rouse him, and remind him of his duty.  He had little news to impart; for on the voyage she had herself witnessed long enough the pitiable condition of her husband.  Now Antony was beginning to be content in it, and this was what most sorely troubled the faithful friend.