"Miserable traitors who change masters at a word!"
But his imprecations were not heard. The confusion was universal and the city fell quickly. Octavius passed the gates on horseback, all the legions following him.
There was one more chance: the fleet. But there, again, treason was rampant. The men stubbornly refused to fight. Oars in hand, they welcomed as comrades the men whom yesterday they had regarded as enemies.
All was lost. No heroic effort could have saved the day. Antony realized it and the roar of the blood in his ears deafened him. He went on like a demented man, surrounded by threatening fists and curses. Instinct led him to the Bruchium. The approach to it was in wild disorder. His heart stood still.
"The Queen! Where is the Queen?" he demanded.
An agonized silence was his answer. All the javelins of presentiment were at his heart.
"Cleopatra!" he cried loudly.
He was heard. An officer came from the royal apartments. His face was sad. Before he could speak the lover understood.
"Dead?"
"Yes, with your name on her lips!"