ke--bears with
it a joy, an exquisite joy, which renders death easy. To me it seems as
if it were merely following the Queen to--Oh, that hurt!" Iras's pin had
pricked her.

The poison did its work quickly. Iras was seized with giddiness, and
could scarcely stand. Charmian had just sunk on her knees, when some one
knocked loudly at the closed door, and the voices of Epaphroditus and
Proculejus imperiously demanded admittance.

When no answer followed, the lock was hastily burst open.

Charmian was found lying pale and distorted at the feet of her royal
mistress; but Iras, tottering and half stupefied by the poison, was
adjusting the diadem, which had slipped from its place. To keep from her
beloved Queen everything that could detract from her beauty had been her
last care.

Enraged, fairly frantic with wrath, the Romans rushed towards the women.
Epaphroditus had seen Iras still occupied in arranging Cleopatra's
ornaments. Now he endeavoured to raise her companion, saying
reproachfully, "Charmian, was this well done?" Summoning her last
strength, she answered in a faltering voice, "Perfectly well, and worthy
a descendant of Egyptian kings." Her eyes closed, but Proculejus, the
author, who had gazed long with deep emotion into the beautiful proud
face of the Queen whom he had so greatly wronged, said: "No other woman
on earth was ever so admired by the greatest, so loved by the loftiest.
Her fame echoed from nation to nation throughout the world. It will
continue to resound from generation to generation; but however loudly
men may extol the bewitching charm, the fervour of the love which
survived death, her intellect, her knowledge, the heroic courage with
which she preferred the tomb to ignominy--the praise of these two must
not be forgotten. Their fidelity deserves it. By their marvellous
end they unconsciously erected the most beautiful monument to their
mistress; for what genuine goodness and lovableness must have been
possessed by the woman who, after the greatest reverses, made it seem
more desirable to those nearest to her person to die than to live
without her!"

[The Roman's exclamation and the answer of the loyal dying Charmian
are taken literally from Plutarch's narrative.]

The news of the death of their beloved, admired sovereign transformed
Alexandria into a house of mourning. Obsequies of unprecedented
magnificence and solemnity, at which many tears of sincere grief flowed,
honoured her memory