ra in the great harbour of Alexandria. The water,
usually so placid, rose in high waves, and the beacon on the lighthouse
of Sastratus sent the rent abundance of its flames with hostile
impetuosity towards the city. The fires in the pitch-pans and the torches
on the shore sometimes seemed on the point of being extinguished, at
others burst with a doubly brilliant blaze through the smoke which
obscured them.

The royal harbour, a fine basin which surrounded in the form of a
semicircle the southern part of the Lochias and a portion of the northern
shore of the Bruchium, was brightly illuminated every night; but this
evening there seemed to be an unusual movement among the lights on its
western shore, the private anchorage of the royal fleet.

Was it the storm that stirred them? No. How could the wind have set one
torch in the place of another, and moved lights or lanterns in a
direction opposite to its violent course? Only a few persons, however,
perceived this; for, though joyous anticipation or anxious fears urged
many thither, who would venture upon the quay on such a tempestuous
night? Besides, no one would have found admittance to the royal port,
which was closed on all sides. Even the mole which, towards the west,
served as the string to the bow of land surrounding it, had but a single
opening and--as every one knew--that was closed by a chain in the same
way as the main entrance to the harbour between the Pharos and Alveus
Steganus.

About two hours before midnight, spite of the increasing fury of the
tempest, the singular movement of the lights diminished, but rarely had
the hearts of those for whom they burned throbbed so anxiously. These
were the dignitaries and court officials who stood nearest to
Cleopatra--about twenty men and a single woman, Iras. Mardion and she had
summoned them because the Queen's letter permitted those to whom she had
given authority to offer her a quiet reception. After a long consultation
they had not invited the commanders of the little Roman garrison left
behind. It was doubtful whether those whom they expected would return
that night, and the Roman soldiers who were loyal to Antony had gone with
him to the war.

The hall in the centre of the private roadstead of the royal harbour,
where they had assembled, was furnished with regal magnificence; for it
was a favourite resort of the Queen. The spacious apartment lacked no
requisite of comfort, and most of those who were waiting us