"To the end," repeated Cleopatra, wiping her eyes. "It began to-day, I
think. I have just spent an hour alone. I meant to commit a crime, and
you know how impatiently passion sweeps me along. But what misfortunes
have assailed me! The army destroyed; the desertion of Herod and
Pinarius; Antony's generous, trusting heart torn by base treachery, his
soul darkened; the reconstruction of the canal, the last hope--Gorgias
brought the news--the same as destroyed. Just then little Alexander came
to show me his bird's nest. Everything else in the garden seemed to him
worthless by comparison. This awakened new thoughts, and now here is the
little house which the children have built with their own hands. All
these things forced me by some mysterious power to look back along the
course of my life to the distant days in your father's house--I--These
children! Upon what different foundations our lives have been built!
I made them begin at the point I had gained when youth lay behind me.
My childhood commenced among the disorders of the government, clouded by
my father's exile and my mother's death, on the brink of ruin. That of
the twins--they are ten years old--will soon be over--and now, after
enjoying pleasures not one of which was bestowed on me, they must endure
the same sorrow. But did not we have better ones? What they daily
possessed we only dreamed of in our simple garden. How often I let you
share the radiant visions which my soul revealed to me! You willingly
accompanied me into the splendid fairy world of my dreams. All that my
imagination conjured up during the years of quiet and repose accompanied
me into my after-life. Again and again I have beheld them, rich and
powerful, upon the throne. The means of rendering the vision a varity
were at hand; and when I met the man whose own life resembled the
realization of a dream, I recalled those childish fancies and made them
facts. The marvels with which I adorned my lover's existence were
childish dreams to which I gave tangible form. This garden is an image