"I am thinking that you are no longer mine; that you never really loved me," she answered bitterly.
"Do not say such things!"
But her mind was made up. If only to show her generosity in forgiving him, she would let him see how guilty he had been.
"If you had really cared, how could you have had the heart to desert me?—to betray me, after all your promises?—to leave me, as you did, sorrowful, humiliated, and alone?"
Antony knelt before her, a penitent, overwhelmed with grief. He tried to prove his innocence. "I love you; I have always loved you and you only. Never, for one instant, have I loosed the bond that unites us." Cleopatra listened, but an ironical smile was on her lips.
"How can you understand my difficulties? The political necessity which has controlled all my actions? You have no idea what I have suffered."
But she would not be convinced. "If you had really loved me——" Antony stopped her. He leaped to his feet like a young Hercules, threw his arms around her, and pressed his quivering lips to her own.
"Forgive me! Only say that you forgive me!" he pleaded.
She was beginning to yield but turned away, with a last effort to make him believe that she was impervious to his prayers.
"Miserable creature that I am! Never have I so longed to hold you in my arms as I do at this moment, when I feel that you have every right to hate me, to curse me!"