rtion that it would be far less easy for Octavianus to refuse her in
person the wishes she cherished for her children's future than through
mediators. Proculejus had learned that Antony had named him to the Queen
as the person most worthy of her confidence, and more keenly felt the
wrong which, as the tool and obedient friend of Octavianus, he had
inflicted upon the hapless woman. The memory of his unworthy deed, which
history would chronicle, had robbed the sensitive man, the author and
patron of budding Roman poetry, of many an hour's sleep, and therefore he
also now laboured zealously to oblige the Queen and mitigate her hard
fate. He, like the freedman Epaphroditus, who by Caesar's orders watched
carefully to prevent any attempt upon her life, seemed to base great
hopes on such an interview, and endeavoured to persuade her to request an
audience from the Caesar.

Archibius said that, even in the worst case, it could not render the
present state of affairs darker. Experience, he said to Charmian, proved
that no man of any feeling could wholly resist the charm of her nature,
and to him at least she had never seemed more winning than now. Who could
have gazed unmoved into the beautiful face, so eloquent in its silent
suffering, whose soul would not have been deeply touched by the sorrowful
tones of her sweet voice? Besides, her sable mourning robes were so well
suited to the slight tinge of melancholy which pervaded her whole aspect.
When the fever flushed her cheeks, Archibius, spite of the ravages which
grief, anxiety, and fear had made upon her charms, thought that he had
never seen her look more beautiful. He knew her thoroughly, and was aware
that her desire to follow the man she loved into the realm of death was
sincere; nay, that it dominated her whole being. She clung to life only
to die as soon as possible. The decision which, after her resolve to
build the monument, she had recognized in the temple of Berenike as the
right one, had become the rule of conduct of her life. Every thought,
every conversation, led her back to the past. The future seemed to exist
no longer. If Archibius succeeded in directing her thoughts to
approaching days she occupied herself wholly with her children's fate.
For herself she expected nothing, felt absolved from every duty except
the one of protecting herself and her name from dishonour and
humiliation.

The fact that Octavianus, when he doomed Caesarion to death, permitted
the o