grave of the best and noblest things which she desired to implant in the
young souls of the twins and Alexander.

While thinking of the children's curses she had risen from her seat.
Why should she reflect and consider longer? She had found the clear
perception she sought. Let Gorgias hasten the building of the tomb.
Should Fate demand her life, she would not resist if she were permitted
to preserve it only at the cost of murder or base treachery. Her lover's
was already forfeited. At his side she had enjoyed a radiant, glowing,
peerless bliss, of which the world still talked with envious amazement.
At his side, when all was over, she would rest in the grave, and compel
the world to remember with respectful sympathy the royal lovers, Antony
and Cleopatra. Her children should be able to think of her with
untroubled hearts, and not even the shadow of a bitter feeling, a warning
thought, should deter them from adorning their parents' grave with
flowers, weeping at its foot, invoking and offering sacrifices to their
spirits.

Then she glanced at the statue of Berenike, who had also once worn on her
brow the double crown of Egypt. She, too, had early died a violent
death; she, too, had known how to love. The vow to sacrifice her
beautiful hair to Aphrodite if her husband returned uninjured from the
Syrian war had rendered her name illustrious. "Berenike's Hair" was
still to be seen as a constellation in the night heavens.

Though this woman had sinned often and heavily, one act of loyal love
had made her an honoured, worshipped princess. She--Cleopatra would do
something still greater. The sacrifice which she intended to impose upon
herself would weigh far more heavily in the balance than a handful of
beautiful tresses, and would comprise sovereignty and life.