loosely set upon her
brow, and rolled away into the darkness beyond the ring of light.

I saw the omen, and even in the bitter anguish of my heart knew its evil
import. But these twain took no note.

"Thou lovest me?" she said, most sweetly; "how know I that thou lovest
me? Perchance it is Fulvia whom thou lovest--Fulvia, thy wedded wife?"

"Nay, it is not Fulvia, 'tis thou, Cleopatra, and thou alone. Many women
have looked favourably upon me from my boyhood up, but to never a one
have I known such desire as to thee, O thou Wonder of the World, like
unto whom no woman ever was! Canst thou love me, Cleopatra, and to me
be true, not for my place or power, not for that which I can give or can
withhold, not for the stern music of my legion's tramp, or for the light
that flows from my bright Star of Fortune; but for myself, for the sake
of Antony, the rough captain, grown old in camps? Ay, for the sake of
Antony the reveller, the frail, the unfixed of purpose, but who yet
never did desert a friend, or rob a poor man, or take an enemy unawares?
Say, canst thou love me, Egypt? Oh! if thou wilt, why, I am more happy
than though I sat to-night in the Capitol at Rome crowned absolute
Monarch of the World!"

And, ever as he spoke, she gazed on him with wonderful eyes, and in them
shone a light of truth and honesty such as was strange to me.

"Thou speakest plainly," she said, "and thy words are sweet to mine
ears--they would be sweet, even were things otherwise than they are,
for what woman would not love to see the world's master at her feet? But
things being as they are, why, Antony, what can be so sweet as thy sweet
words? The harbour of his rest to the storm-tossed mariner--surely that
is sweet! The dream of Heaven's bliss which cheers the poor ascetic
priest on his path of sacrifice--surely that is sweet! The sight of
Dawn, the rosy-fingered, coming in his promise to glad the watching
Earth--surely that is sweet! But, ah! not one of these, nor all dear
delightful things that are, can match the honey-sweetness of thy words
to me, O Antony! For thou knowest not--never canst thou know--how drear
my life hath been, and empty, since thus it is ordained that in love
only can woman lose her solitude! And I have _never_ loved--never might
I love--till this happy night! Ay, take me in thy arms, and let us swear
a great vow of love--an oath that may not be broken while life is in
us! Behold! Antony! now and for ever I do vow most s