self; he is not yet at the gates of
Alexandria, and perchance may be appeased. Thy mind in its fever has
fired thy body; thou art sick and canst not judge aright. See, here, I
have a potion that shall make thee whole, for I am well skilled in the
art of medicine," and I held out the phial.

"A potion, thou sayest man!" he cried. "More like it is a poison, and
thou a murderer, sent by false Egypt, who would fain be rid of me now
that I may no more be of service to her. The head of Antony is the peace
offering she would send to Caesar--she for whom I have lost all! Give me
thy draught. By Bacchus! I will drink it, though it be the very elixir
of Death!"

"Nay, noble Antony; it is no poison, and I am no murderer. See, I will
taste it, if thou wilt," and I held forth the subtle drink that has the
power to fire the veins of men.

"Give it me, Physician. Desperate men are brave men. There!----Why, what
is this? Yours is a magic draught! My sorrows seem to roll away like
thunder-clouds before the southern gale, and the spring of Hope blooms
fresh upon the desert of my heart. Once more I am Antony, and once again
I see my legions' spears asparkle in the sun, and hear the thunderous
shout of welcome as Antony--beloved Antony--rides in pomp of war along
his deep-formed lines! There's hope! there's hope! I may yet see
the cold brows of Caesar--that Caesar who never errs except from
policy--robbed of their victor bays and crowned with shameful dust!"

"Ay," cried Charmion, "there still is hope, if thou wilt but play the
man! O my Lord! come back with us; come back to the loving arms of
Cleopatra! All night she lies upon her golden bed, and fills the hollow
darkness with her groans for 'Antony!' who, enamoured now of Grief,
forgets his duty and his love!"

"I come! I come! Shame upon me, that I dared to doubt her! Slave, bring
water, and a purple robe: not thus can I be seen of Cleopatra. Even now
I come."

In this fashion, then, did we draw Antony back to Cleopatra, that the
ruin of the twain might be made sure.

We led him up the Alabaster Hall and into Cleopatra's chamber, where she
lay, her cloudy hair about her face and breast, and tears flowing from
her deep eyes.

"O Egypt!" he cried, "behold me at thy feet!"

She sprang from the couch. "And art thou here, my love?" she murmured;
"then once again are all things well. Come near, and in these arms
forget thy sorrows and turn my grief to joy. Oh, Antony, while