insolent, gaiety
had given place to a sorrowful droop of the lips, and his fair hair had
begun to turn grey.

Lucilius's information that Cleopatra had consented to make advances to
Antony had seemed like the rising of the sun after a long period of
darkness. In his eyes, not only his master, but everything else, must
yield to the power of the Queen. He had heard Antony at Tarsus inveigh
against "the Egyptian serpent," protesting that he would make her pay so
dearly for her questionable conduct towards himself and the cause of
Caesar that the treasure-houses on the Nile should be like an empty
wine-skin; yet, a few hours after, body and soul had been in her toils.
So it had continued till the battle of Actium. Now there was nothing more
to lose; but what might not Cleopatra bestow upon his master? He thought
of the delightful years during which his face had grown so round, and
every day fresh pleasures and spectacles, such as the world would never
again witness, had satiated eye and ear, palate and nostril,--nay, even
curiosity. If they could be repeated, even in a simpler form, so much the
better. His main--nay, almost his sole-desire was to release his lord
from this wretched solitude, this horrible misanthropy, so ill suited to
his nature.

Cleopatra had kept him waiting two hours, but he would willingly have
loitered in the anteroom thrice as long if she only determined to follow
his counsel. It was worth considering, and Eros did not hesitate to give
it. No one could foresee how Antony would greet Cleopatra herself, so he
proposed that she should send Charmian--not alone, but with her clever
hunch-backed maid, to whom the Imperator himself had given the name
"Aisopion." He liked Charmian, and could never see the dusky maid without
jesting with her. If his master could once be induced to show a cheerful
face to others besides himself, Eros, and perceived how much better it
was to laugh than to lapse into sullen reverie and anger, much would be
gained, and Charmian would do the rest, if she brought a loving message
from her royal mistress.

Hitherto Cleopatra had not interrupted him; but when she expressed the
opinion that a slave's nimble tongue would have little power to change
the deep despondency of a man overwhelmed by the most terrible disaster,
Eros waved his short, broad hand, saying:

"I trust your Majesty will pardon the frankness of a man so humble in
degree, but those in high station often permit us