t far ahead of his ship and steered straight towards
the south.

"I breathed more freely, in the pleasant consciousness of escaping a
two-fold danger. Had I remained long before Antony's eyes, looking as I
did then, it might--

"Wretched blunder of a wretched woman, I say now. But at that time I
could not suspect what a terrible doom I had brought down in that hour
upon ourselves, my children, perhaps the whole world; so I remained under
the thrall of these petty fears and thoughts until wounded men were
carried past me. The sight distressed me; you know how sensitive I am,
and with what difficulty I endure and witness suffering.

"Charmian led me to the cabin. There I first realized what I had done. I
had hoped to aid in crushing the hated foe, and now perhaps it was I who
had built for him the bridge to victory, to sovereignty, to our
destruction. Pursued by such thoughts, as if by the Furies, I paced
restlessly to and fro.

"Suddenly I heard a loud noise on deck. A crashing blow seemed to shake
the huge ship. We were pursued! A Roman galley had boarded mine! This was
my thought as I grasped the dagger Antony had given me.

"But Charmian came back with tidings which seemed scarcely less terrible
than the baseless fear. I had angrily commanded her to leave me because
she had urged me to revoke the command to turn back. Now, deadly pale,
she announced that Mark Antony had left his galley, followed me in a
little five-oared boat, and come on board our ship.

"My blood froze in my veins.

"He had come, I imagined, to force me to return to the battle and,
drawing a long breath, my defiant pride urged me to show him that I was
the Queen and would obey only my own will, while my heart impelled me to
sink at his feet and beseech him, without heeding me, to issue any order
which promised to secure a victory.

"But he did not come.

"I sent Charmian up again. Antony had been unable to continue the
conflict when parted from me. Now he sat in front of the cabin with his
head resting on his hands, staring at the planks of the deck like one
distraught. He, he--Antony! The bravest horseman, the terror of the foe,
let his arms fall like a shepherd-boy whose sheep are stolen by the
wolves. Mark Antony, the hero who had braved a thousand dangers, had
flung down his sword. Why, why? Because a woman had yielded to idle
fears, obeyed the yearning of a mother's heart, and fled? Of all human
weaknesses, not one had been more alie