"And the reckless deed was successful?"

"No, my royal mistress. I wish it had been. A love-sick fool who
accompanied her drew his sword in her defence, raised his hand against
the son of Caesar, and wounded him. Calm yourself, I beseech you, I
conjure you--the wound is slight. The boy's mad passion makes me far more
anxious."

The Queen's pouting scarlet lips closed so firmly that her mouth lost the
winning charm which was peculiar to it, and she answered in a firm,
resolute tone: "It is the mother's place to protect the son against the
temptress. Alexas is right. Her star stands in the path of mine. A woman
like this casts a deep shadow on her Queen's course. I will defend
myself. It is she who has placed herself between us; she has won Antony.
But no! Why should I blind myself? Time and the charms he steals from
women are far more powerful than twenty such little temptresses. Then,
there are the circumstances which prevented my concealing the defects
that wounded the eyes of this most spoiled of all spoiled mortals. All
these things aided the singer. I feel it. In her pursuit of men she had
at her command all the means which aid us women to conceal what is
unlovely and enhance what is beautiful in a lover's eyes, while I was at
a disadvantage, lacking your aid and the long-tested skill of Olympus.
The divinity on the ship, amid the raging of the storm, was forced more
than once to appear before the worshipper ungarlanded, without ornament
for the head, or incense."

"But though she used all the combined arts of Aphrodite and Isis, she
could not vie with you, my royal mistress!" cried Iras. "How little is
required to delude the senses of one scarcely more than a child!"

"Poor boy!" sighed the Queen, gently. "Had he not been wounded, and were
it not so hard to resign what we love, I should rejoice that he, too,
understands how to plan and act. Perhaps--O Iras, would that it might be
so!--now that the gate is burst open, the brain and energy of the great
Caesar will enter his living image. As the Egyptians call Horus 'the
avenger of his father,' perhaps he may become his mother's defender and
avenger. If Caesar's spirit wakes within him, he will wrest from the
dissembler Octavianus the heritage of which the nephew robbed the son.
You swear that the wound is but a slight one?"

"The physicians have said so."

"Well, then we will hope so. Let him enter the conflict of life. We will
afford him ample opportunity