ere she admitted Antony's body-slave, but for her the
business of the night was just commencing. After he had gone she would
be engaged for hours with the commanders of the army, the fleet, the
fortifications. The soliciting of allies, too, must be carried on by
means of letters containing the most stirring appeals to the heart.

Eros, Antony's body-slave, appeared. His kind eyes filled with tears
at the sight of the Queen. Grief had not lessened the roundness of his
handsome face, but the expression of mischievous, often 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 la