The coward blow of that accursed Brennus has done its work, and
Harmachis dies!"

"Love counts not its labour, Charmion, nor can it weight its tenderness
on the scale of purchase. That which it has it gives, and craves for
more to give and give, till the soul's infinity be drained. Dear to thy
heart are these heavy nights of watching; sweet to thy weary eyes
is that sad sight of strength brought so low that it hangs upon thy
weakness like a babe to its mother's breast! For, Charmion, thou dost
love this man who loves thee not, and now that he is helpless thou canst
pour thy passion forth over the unanswering darkness of his soul, and
cheat thyself with dreams of what yet might be."

"I love him not, as thou hast proof, O Queen! How can I love one who
would have slain thee, who art as my heart's sister? It is for pity that
I nurse him."

She laughed a little as she answered, "Pity is love's own twin,
Charmion. Wondrous wayward are the paths of woman's love, and thou hast
shown thine strangely, that I know. But the more high the love, the
deeper the gulf whereinto it can fall--ay, and thence soar again to
heaven, once more to fall! Poor woman! thou art thy passion's plaything:
now tender as the morning sky, and now, when jealousy grips thy heart,
more cruel than the sea. Well, thus are we made. Soon, after all this
troubling, nothing will be left thee but tears, remorse, and--memory."

And she went forth.

CHAPTER XIV

OF THE TENDER CARE OF CHARMION; OF THE HEALING OF HARMACHIS; OF THE
SAILING OF THE FLEET OF CLEOPATRA FOR CILICIA; AND OF THE SPEECH OF
BRENNUS TO HARMACHIS

Cleopatra went, and for a while I lay silent, gathering up my strength
to speak. But Charmion came and stood over me, and I felt a great tear
fall from her dark eyes upon my face, as the first heavy drop of rain
falls from a thunder cloud.

"Thou goest," she whispered; "thou goest fast whither I may not follow!
O Harmachis, how gladly would I give my life for thine!"

Then at length I opened my eyes, and spoke as best I could:

"Restrain thy grief, dear friend," I said, "I live yet; and, in truth, I
feel as though new life gathered in my breast!"

She gave a little cry of joy, and I never saw aught more beautiful than
the change that came upon her weeping face! It was as when the first
lights of the day run up the pallor of that sad sky which veils the
night from dawn. All rosy grew her lovely countenance; her dim eyes
shone out like