ivine,
have naught to do with thee."

"Ay," she broke in, in her low voice, and with her eyes still fixed upon
the ground--"ay, and I know that thy vows are broken in spirit, if not
in form--broken like wreaths of cloud; for, Harmachis--_thou lovest
Cleopatra!_"

"It is a lie!" I cried. "Thou wanton girl, who wouldst seduce me from my
duty and put me to an open shame!--who, led by passion or ambition, or
the love of evil, hast not shamed to break the barriers of thy sex and
speak as thou hast spoken--beware lest thou go too far! And if thou wilt
have an answer, here it is, put straightly, as thy question. Charmion,
outside the matter of my duty and my vows, thou art _naught_ to me!--nor
for all thy tender glances will my heart beat one pulse more fast!
Hardly art thou now my friend--for, of a truth, I scarce can trust thee.
But, once more: beware! To me thou mayest do thy worst; but if thou dost
dare to lift a finger against our cause, that day thou diest! And now,
is this play done?"

And as, wild with anger, I spoke thus, she shrank back, and yet further
back, till at length she rested against the wall, her eyes covered with
her hand. But when I ceased she dropped her hand, glancing up, and her
face was as the face of a statue, in which the great eyes glowed like
embers, and round them was a ring of purple shadow.

"Not altogether done," she answered gently; "the arena must yet be
sanded!" This she said having reference to the covering up of the
bloodstains at the gladiatorial shows with fine sand. "Well," she went
on, "waste not thine anger on a thing so vile. I have thrown my throw
and I have lost. _Vae victis!_--ah! _Vae victis!_ Wilt thou not lend me
the dagger in thy robe, that here and now I may end my shame? No? Then
one word more, most royal Harmachis: if thou canst, forget my folly;
but, at the least, have no fear from me. I am now, as ever, thy servant
and the servant of our cause. Farewell!"

And she went, leaning her hand against the wall. But I, passing to
my chamber, flung myself upon my couch, and groaned in bitterness of
spirit. Alas! we shape our plans, and by slow degrees build up our house
of Hope, never counting on the guests that time shall bring to lodge
therein. For who can guard against--the Unforeseen?

At length I slept, and my dreams were evil. When I woke the light of
the day which should see the red fulfilment of the plot was streaming
through the casement, and the birds sang merril