ment and tomb had been erected some years before; it
was made of square blocks of solid stone, and was the stoutest building
in Alexandria. While Antony was outside the walls fighting, Cleopatra
had carried into this building all of her jewelry, plate, costly silks,
gold, silver, pearls, her private records and most valuable books. She
had also carried into the mausoleum a large quantity of flax and several
torches.

The intent was that, if Antony were defeated and the city taken by
Caesar, the conqueror should not take the Queen alive, neither should he
have her treasure. With her two women, Iras and Charmion, she entered
the tomb, all agreeing that when the worst came they would fire the flax
and die together.

When the Queen heard that Antony was at death's door she ordered that he
should be brought to her. He was carried on a litter to the iron gate of
the tomb; but she, fearing treachery, would not unbar the door. Cords
were let down from a window above, and the Queen and her two women, with
much effort, drew the sorely stricken man up, and lifted him through the
window.

Cleopatra embraced him, calling him her lord, her life, her king, her
husband. She tried to stanch his wound, but the death-rattle was already
in his throat. "Do not grieve," he said; "remember our love--remember,
too, I fought like a Roman and have been overcome only by a Roman!"

And so holding him in her arms, Antony died.

When Caesar heard that his enemy was dead, he put on mourning for the man
who had been his comrade and colleague, and sent messages of condolence
to Cleopatra. He set apart a day for the funeral and ordered that the
day should be sacred, and Cleopatra should not be disturbed in any way.

Cleopatra prepared the body for burial with her own hands, dug the grave
alone, and with her women laid the body to rest, and she alone gave the
funeral address.

Caesar was gentle, gracious, kind. Assurances came that he would do
neither the city nor the Queen the slightest harm.

Cleopatra demanded Egypt for her children, and for herself she wished
only the privilege of living with her grief in obscurity. Caesar would
make no promises for her children, but as for herself she should still
be Queen--they were of one age--why should not Caesar and Cleopatra still
rule, just as, indeed, a Caesar had ruled before!

But this woman had loved the Great Caesar, and now her heart was in the
grave with Mark Antony--she scorned the soft, ins