“Months may pass before he is strong enough to risk the attack, and the immortals themselves approved the erection of the monument.  The only obstacle in the way, the house of the old philosopher Didymus, was destroyed.  A messenger from Gorgias brought the news.  It is to be the second monument in Alexandria worthy of notice.  The other contains the body of the great Alexander, to whom the city owes its origin and name.  He who subjected half the world to his power and the genius of the Greeks, was younger than I when he died.  Whence do I, by whose miserable weakness the battle of Actium was lost, derive the right to walk longer beneath the sun?  Perhaps Mark Antony will arrive in a few hours.”

“And will you meet the disheartened hero in this mood?” interrupted Charmian.

“He does not wish to be received,” answered Cleopatra bitterly.  “He even refused to let me greet him, and I understand the denial.  But what must have overwhelmed this joyous nature, so friendly to all mankind, that he longs for solitude and avoids meeting those who are nearest and dearest?  Iras is now at the Choma—­whither he wishes to retire—­to see that everything is in order.  She will also provide a supply of the flowers he loves.  It is hard, cruelly hard, not to welcome him as usual.  Oh, Charmian, what joy it was when, with open arms and overflowing heart, he swung his mighty figure ashore like a youth, while his handsome, heroic face beamed with ardent love for me!  And then—­you do not forget it either—­when he raised his deep voice to shout the first greeting, why, it seemed as if the very fish in the water must join in, and the palm-trees on the shore wave their feathery tops in joyous sympathy.  And here!  The dreams of my childhood, which I made reality for him, received us, and our existence, wreathed with love and roses, became a fairy tale.  Since the day he rode towards us at Kanopus and offered me the first bouquet, with his sunny glance wooing my love, his image has stood before my soul as the embodiment of the virile strength which conquers everything, and the bright, undimmed joy which renders the whole world happy.  And now—­now?  Do you remember the dull dreamer whom we left ere he set forth for Paraetonium?  But no, no, a thousand times no, he must not remain so!  Not with bowed head, but erect as in the days of happiness, must he cross the threshold of Hades, hand in hand with her whom he loved.  And he does love me still.  Else would he have followed me hither, though no magic goblet drew him after me?  And I?  The heart which, in the breast of the child, gave him its first young love, is still his, and will be forever.  Might I not go to the harbour and await him there?  Look me in the face, Charmian, and answer me as fearlessly as a mirror:  did Olympus really succeed in effacing the wrinkles?”

“They were scarcely visible before,” was the reply, “and even the keenest eye could no longer discover them.  I have brought the pomade, too, and the prescription Olympus gave me for—­”