“He had come, he answered courteously, by the command of Octavianus, to negotiate with her, and the Queen expressed her willingness to listen, but refused to admit him into the mausoleum.

“So they talked with each other through the door.  With dignified composure, she asked to have the sons whom she had given to Antony—­not Caasarion—­acknowledged as Kings of Egypt.

“Proculejus instantly promised to convey her wishes to Caesar, and gave hopes of their fulfilment.

“While she was speaking of the children and their claims—­she did not mention her own future—­the Roman questioned her about Mark Antony’s death, and then described the destruction of the dead man’s army and other matters of trivial importance.  Proculejus did not look like a babbler, but I felt a suspicion that he was intentionally trying to hold the attention of the Queen.  This proved to be his design; he had been merely waiting for Cornelius Gallus, the commander of the fleet, of whom you have heard.  He, too, ranks among the chief men in Rome, and yet he made himself the accomplice of Proculejus.

“The latter retired as soon as he had presented the new-comer to the hapless woman.

“I remained at my post and now heard Gallus assure Cleopatra of his master’s sympathy.  With the most bombastic exaggeration he described how bitterly Octavianus mourned in Mark Antony the friend, the brother-in-law, the co-ruler and sharer in so many important enterprises.  He had shed burning tears over the tidings of his death.  Never had more sincere ones coursed down any man’s cheeks.

“Gallus, too, seemed to me to be intentionally prolonging the conversation.

“Then, while I was listening intently to understand Cleopatra’s brief replies, my foreman, who, when the workmen were driven away by the Romans, had concealed himself between two blocks of granite, came to me and said that Proculejus had just climbed a ladder to the scaffold in the rear of the monument.  Two servants followed, and they had all stolen down into the hall.

“I hastily started up.  I had been lying on the floor with my head outstretched to listen.

“Cost what it might, the Queen must be warned.  Treachery was certainly at work here.

“But I came too late.

“O Dion!  If I had only been informed a few minutes before, perhaps something still more terrible might have happened, but the Queen would have been spared what now threatens her.  What can she expect from the conqueror who, in order to seize her alive, condescends to outwit a noble, defenceless woman, who has succumbed to superior power?