letters to me."

She raised the lid with trembling hands and, as these mementoes carried
her back to the past, she continued in lower tones:

"Among all my treasures this simple little coffer has been for half a
lifetime my most valued jewel. He gave it to me. It was in the midst of
the fierce contest here at the Bruchium."

Then, while unfolding the first roll, she directed Octavianus's attention
to it and the remainder of the contents of the little casket, exclaiming:

"Silent pages, yet how eloquent! Each one a peerless picture, the
powerful thinker, the man of action, who permits his restless intellect
to repose, and suffers his heart to overflow with the love of youth!
Were I vain, Octavianus, I might call each one of these letters a trophy
of victory, an Olympic garland. The woman to whom Julius Caesar owned
his subjugation might well hold her head higher than the unhappy,
vanquished Queen who, save the permission to die--"

"Do not part with the letters," said Octavianus kindly. "Who can doubt
that they are a precious treasure--"

"The most precious and at the same time the advocate of the accused,"
replied Cleopatra eagerly; "on them--as you have already heard--rests my
vindication. I will commence with their contents. How terrible it is to
make what is sacred to us and intended only to elevate our own hearts
serve a purpose, to do what has always been repugnant to us! But I need
an advocate and, Octavianus, these letters will restore to the wretched,
suffering beggar the dignity and majesty of the Queen. The world knows