"How do you know that?" he asked impatiently.
"She has requested me to tell you so."
Was it possible that she was still thinking of him? That after all he had done she bore him no ill will? He must be dreaming! He stared at Capito, fearing he might deny the words that he had just spoken. But no; explanations followed and Antony was assured that Cleopatra had never ceased to love him, that she was still eager for his success.
What miracle of love was this, that after being stabbed, scorned, trodden under foot and profaned, thus came to life, or rather showed that it had never ceased to live! In a second Antony's exhausted energy was renewed. It was the ecstatic joy of an invalid recovering from a protracted illness, of a convalescent who takes life up again, to find it more beautiful than he had ever realized.
On being despatched to Alexandria, Capito had no occasion to copy the diplomacy of Dellius in order to induce Cleopatra to follow him. She was more than ready to go. Her days of coquetry were over. She now only desired to join her lover, to be assured that she could hold him, and to begin immediately that contest with her rival in which the more persistent and less scrupulous combatant was certain of the victory.
Some letters from Antony had made his situation and its difficulties quite clear to her. He was on the eve of a campaign, without money, without the necessary troops. Outside aid was essential. She would supply this assistance; be the beneficent goddess, who at the crucial moment turns the wheel of Fortune.
Ships were loaded at once; some with gold, others bearing beasts of burden; others again laden with machinery and abundant supplies of wheat; all the necessary stores to sustain the strength of the army. When these were packed to the netting, the purple sails of the royal galley were unfurled. The negro rowers grasped their silver-mounted oars, and, over gracious waves that seemed to make way for her tranquil passage, Antony's mistress sped to her lover.
It was at Antioch again that Antony awaited Cleopatra; the same Antioch where, five years before, he had begun to dream of her beneath the cedars and the palm trees. In the evening, under the glowing sunset skies, she stood erect, beside the silken canopy, looking as though she wished to hasten the flying ship to reach him sooner. His heart throbbed; his eyes grew dim; the blood surged in his ears. It seemed that the whole sea was beating against his breast. Amidst shoutings and acclamations he conducted the fair traveller to the old palace of the Seleucides that he had prepared for her with a luxury that rivalled the splendours of the Bruchium.
Alone at last, they looked at each other in silence. So many months had passed, so many things had happened since their parting that they seemed scarcely able to recognize each other. Was this the son of Bacchus, with such a troubled brow? Cleopatra, young as she was, and more beautiful than ever, bore the marks of suffering. Though her passionate mouth had the vivid red of an open pomegranate, a curve of bitterness had changed its expression. She had lost the serene look of former days. In the storm of life she had been bruised against the rocks of fate. Her heart, her royal heart, whose only dream had been to conquer, had known the humiliation of longing and of tears. At this moment, on the verge of victory, she was torn by conflicting emotions. Even as she yielded to his irresistible fascination she had the agonized thought: "Why do I still love this man who has put another woman in my place?"
"What are you thinking about?" demanded Antony, almost brutally, as though he dreaded her reply.