majesty of the Queen.  The world knows but two powers to which Julius Caesar bowed—­the thrall of the pitiable woman on this couch, and of all-conquering death.  An unpleasant fellowship—­but I do not shrink from it; for death robbed him of life, and from my hand—­I ask only a brief moment.  How gladly I would spare myself my own praises, and you the necessity of listening to them!  Yes, here it is:  ‘Through you, you irresistible woman,’ he writes, ’I learned for the first time, after youth was over, how beautiful life can be.’”

Cleopatra, as she spoke, handed Caesar the letter.  But while she was still searching hastily for another he returned the first, saying: 

“I understand only too well your reluctance to allow such confidential effusions to play the part of defender.  I can imagine their purport, and they shall influence me as if I had read them all.  However eloquent they may be, they are needless witnesses.  Is any written testimony required in behalf of charms whose magic is still potent?”

A bewitching smile, which seemed like a confirmation of the haughty young conqueror’s flattering words, flitted over Cleopatra’s face.  Octavianus noticed it.  This woman indeed possessed enthralling charms, and he felt the slight flush that suffused his cheeks.

This unhappy captive, this suffering supplicant, could still draw into her net any man who did not possess the cool watchfulness which panoplied his soul.  Was it the marvellous melody of her voice, the changeful lustre of her tearful eyes, the aristocratic grace of the noble figure, the exquisite symmetry of the hands and feet, the weakness of the prostrate sufferer, strangely blended with truly royal majesty, or the thought that love for her had found earth’s greatest and loftiest men with indissoluble fetters, which lent this fragile woman, who had long since passed the boundaries of youth, so powerful a spell of attraction?

At any rate, however certain of himself he might be, he must guard his feelings.  He understood how to bridle passion far better than the uncle who was so greatly his superior.

Yet it was of the utmost importance to keep her alive, and therefore to maintain her belief in his admiration.  He wished to show the world and the Great Queen of the East, who had just boasted of conquering, like death, even the most mighty, its own supremacy as man and victor.  But he must also be gentle, in order not to endanger the object for which he wanted her.  She must accompany him to Rome.  She and her children promised to render his triumph the most brilliant and memorable one which any conqueror had ever displayed to the senate and the people.  In a light tone which, however, revealed the emotion of his soul, he answered:  “My illustrious uncle was known as a friend of fair women.  His stern life was crowned with flowers by many hands, and he acknowledged these favours verbally and perhaps—­as he