he followed her. Together they
reached Alexandria. But there it was no longer the inimitable life that
they led, rather that of the inseparables in death, or at least Antony so
fancied. Cleopatra intoxicated him with funereal delights while
corresponding in secret with Octavius who had written engagingly to her.
In the Bruchium the nights were festivals. By day she experimented on
slaves with different poisons. Antony believed that she was preparing to
die with him. She had no such intention. She was preparing to be rid of
him. Then, suddenly, the enemy was at the gates. Antony challenged
Octavius to single combat. Octavius sent him word that there were many
other ways in which he could end his life. At that the lion roared. Even
then he thought he might demolish him. He tried. He went forth to fight.
But Cleopatra had other views. The infantry, the cavalry, the flotilla,
joined the Roman forces. The viper of the Nile had betrayed him. Bacchus
had also. The night had been stirred by the hum of harps and the cries of
bacchantes bearing the tutelary god to the Romans.

Antony, staggering back to the palace, was told that Cleopatra had killed
herself. She had not, but fearful lest he kill her, she had hidden with
her treasure in a temple. Antony, after the Roman fashion, kept always
with him a slave who should kill him when his hour was come. The slave's
name, Plutarch said, was Eros. Antony called him. Eros raised a sword, but
instead of striking his master, struck himself. Antony reddened and
imitated him. Another slave then told him that Cleopatra still lived. He
had himself taken to where she was, and died while attempting to console
this woman who was preparing for the consolations of Octavius.

It is said that she received the conqueror magnificently. But his engaging
letters had been _ruses de guerre_. They had triumphed. The new Caesar
wanted to triumph still further. He wanted Cleopatra, a chain about her
neck, dragged after his chariot through Rome. He wanted in that abjection
to triumph over the entire East. Instead of yielding to her, as she had
expected, he threatened to kill her children if she eluded him by killing
herself. The threat was horrible. But more horrible still was the thought
of the infamy to be.

Shortly, on a bed of gold, dressed as for nuptials, she was found dead
among her expiring women, one of whom even then was putting back on her
head her diadem which had fallen. At last the cormorant h