he Imperator--now that Fate had decided against him, and
nothing remained save a life sullied by disgrace--to put himself to death
with his own hand, like Brutus and so many other noble Romans. Tidings
soon came that he had attempted to do what the best citizens expected.

Gorgias could not endure to remain longer in the Forum, but hastened to
the Choma, though it was difficult to force his way to the wall, where a
breach had been made. He had found the portion of the shore from which
the promontory ran densely crowded with people--from whom he learned that
Antony was no longer in the palace--and the sea filled with boats.

A corpse was just being borne out of the little palace on the Street of
the King and, among those who followed, Gorgias recognized one of
Antony's slaves. The man's eyes were red with weeping. He readily obeyed
the architect's sign and, sobbing bitterly, told him that the hapless
general, after his army had betrayed him, fled hither. When he heard in
the palace that Cleopatra had preceded him to Hades, he ordered his
body-slave Eros to put an end to his life also. The worthy man drew back,
pierced his own breast with his sword, and sank dying at his master's
feet; but Antony, exclaiming that Eros's example had taught him his duty,
thrust the short sword into his breast with his own hand. Yet deep and
severe as was the wound, it did not destroy the tremendous vitality of
the gigantic Roman. With touching entreaties he implored the bystanders
to kill him, but no one could bring himself to commit the deed. Meanwhile
Cleopatra's name, coupled with the wish to follow her, was constantly on
the lips of the Imperator.

At last Diomedes, the Queen's private secretary, appeared, to bring him,
by her orders, to the mausoleum where she had taken refuge.

Antony, as if animated with fresh vigour, assented, and while being
carried thither gave orders that Eros should have a worthy burial. Even
though dying, it would have been impossible for the most generous of
masters to permit any kindness rendered to pass unrequited.

The slave again wept aloud as he uttered the words, but Gorgias hastened
at once to the tomb. The nearest way, the Street of the King, had become
so crowded with people who had been forced back by Roman soldiers,
between the Theatre of Dionysus and the Corner of the Muses, that he had
been compelled to reach the building through a side street.

The quay was already unrecognizable, and even in