"You summoned me--I came. Every one is subject to beauty--even the
victor."

Cleopatra's head drooped in shame as she answered distinctly, yet in a
tone of modest denial: "I only asked the favour of an audience. I did
not summon. I thank you for granting the request. If it is dangerous
for man to bow to woman's charms, no peril threatens you here. Beauty
cannot withstand tortures such as those which have been imposed on me--
barely can life remain. But you prevented my casting it from me. If you
are just, you will grant to the woman whom you would not permit to die an
existence whose burden will not exceed her power to endure."

The Caesar again bowed silently and answered courteously:

"I intend to make it worthy of you."

"Then," cried Cleopatra impetuously, "release me from this torturing
uncertainty. You are not one of the men who never look beyond to-day and
to-morrow."

"You are thinking," said Octavianus harshly, "of one who perhaps would
still be among us, if with wiser caution--"

Cleopatra's eyes, which hitherto had met the victor's cold gaze with
modest entreaty, flashed angrily, and a majestic: "Let the past rest!"
interrupted him.

But she soon mastered the indignation which had stirred her passionate
blood, and in a totally different tone, not wholly free from gentle
persuasion, she continued: