“When we consider that, a few years ago, this man, as it were, doubled himself when peril was most threatening, his conduct now, on the eve of the decisive struggle, is intelligible only to those who know him as we do.  If he fights, he will no longer do so to save himself, or even to conquer, but to die an honourable death.  If he still enjoys the pleasures offered, he believes that he can thus mitigate for himself the burden of defeat, and diminish the grandeur of the conqueror’s victory.  In the eyes of the world, at least, a man who can still revel like Antony is only half vanquished.  Yet the lofty tone of his mind was lowered.  The surrender of the murderer of Caesar—­his name was Turullius—­proves it.

“And this, Barine—­tell your husband so—­this is what fills me with anxiety and compels me to entreat you not to think of returning home yet.

“Antony is now the jovial companion of his son, and permits Antyllus to share all his own pleasures.  Of course, he heard of Caesarion’s passion, and is disposed to help the poor fellow.  He has often said that nothing would better serve to rouse the dreamer from torpor than your charming vivacity.  As the earth could scarcely have swallowed you up, you would be found; he, too, should be glad to hear you sing again.  I know that search will be made for you.

“How imperiously this state of affairs requires you to exercise caution needs no explanation.  On the other hand, you may find comfort in the tidings that Cleopatra intends to send Caesarion with his tutor Rhodon to Ethiopia, by way of the island of Philae.  Archibius heard through Timagenes that Octavianus considers the son of Caesar, whose face so wonderfully resembles his father’s, a dangerous person, and this opinion is the boy’s death-warrant.  Antyllus, too, is going on a journey.  His destination is Asia, where he is to seek to propitiate Octavianus and make him new offers.  As you know, he was betrothed to his daughter Julia.  The Queen ceased long ago to believe in the possibility of victory, yet, spite of all the demands of the “Comrades of Death” and her own cares, she toils unweariedly in preparing for the defence of the country.  She is doubtless the only member of that society who thinks seriously of the approaching end.

“Now that the tomb is rising, she ponders constantly upon death.  She, who was taught by Epicurus to strive for freedom from pain and is so sensitive to the slightest bodily suffering, is still seeking a path which, with the least agony, will lead to the eternal rest for which she longs.  Iras and the younger pupils of Olympus are aiding her.  The old man furnishes all sorts of poisons, which she tries upon various animals—­nay, recently even on criminals sentenced to death.  All these experiments seem to prove that the bite of the uraeus serpent, whose image on the Egyptian crown symbolizes the sovereign’s instant power over life and death, stills the heart most swiftly and with the least suffering.