“Would that it might assert itself to-day!” cried the Queen.  “At any rate the power of the beaker impelled Antony to do many things.  I am not vain enough to believe that it was love, that it was solely the spell of my own personality which drew him to me in that disastrous hour.  That battle, that incomprehensible, disgraceful battle!  You were ill, and could not see our fleet when it set sail; but even experienced spectators said that handsomer, larger vessels were never beheld.  I was right in insisting that the decision of the conflict should be left to them.  I was entitled to call them mine.  Had we conquered, what a proud delight it would have been to say, ’The weapons which you gave to the man you loved gained him the sovereignty of the world!’ Besides, the stars had assured me that good fortune would attend us on the sea.  They had given the same message to Anubis here and to Alexas upon Antony’s galley.  I also trusted the spell of the goblet, which had already compelled Antony to do many things he opposed.  So I succeeded in having the decision of the conflict left to the fleet, but the prediction was false, false, false!—­how utterly, was to be proved only too soon.

“If I had only been told in time what I learned later!  After the defeat people were more loquacious.  That one remark of a veteran commander of the foot-soldiers would probably have sufficed to open my eyes.  He had asked Mark Antony why he fixed his hopes on miserable wood, exclaiming, ’Let the Phoenician’s and Egyptians war on the water, but leave us the land where we are accustomed, with our feet firmly set upon the earth, to fight, conquer, or die!’ This alone, I am sure, would have changed my resolve in a happy hour.  But it was kept from me.

“The conflict began.  Our troops had lost patience.  The left wing of the fleet advanced.  At first I watched the battle eagerly, with a throbbing heart.  How proudly the huge galleys moved forward!  Everything was going admirably.  Antony had made an address, assuring the warriors that, even without soldiers, our ships would destroy the foe by their mere height and size.  What orator can so carry his hearers with him!  I, too, was still fearless.  Who cherishes anxiety when confidently expecting victory?  When he went on board his own ship, after bidding me farewell far less cordially than usual, I became more troubled.  I thought it was evident that his love was waning.  What had I become since we left Alexandria, and Olympus no longer attended me!  Matters could not continue in this way.  I would leave the direction of the war to him, and vanish from his eyes.  After he had looked into the beaker of Nektanebus, he yielded to my will, but often with indignation.  The unconcealed, ineffaceable lines, and the years, the cruel years!”

“What thoughts are these?” cried Iras.  “Let me take oath, my sovereign mistress, that as you stand before me—­”