"And you! How can you pretend that you no longer love her?"
Kisses are the only sure means of persuasion between lovers, and she refused to let him come near her. Worn out, disheartened, like a man who has lost all interest in life, Antony asked sadly:
"What is it that you wish? What further proof do you require from me?"
A papyrus leaf was lying ready on the table.
"Write!" commanded his despot. "Send an order to Octavia to depart for Rome as quickly as possible!"
This ungracious act was repugnant to Antony's instinctive gallantry. He had never treated any woman rudely. Should he behave like a blackguard to the one who had every right to expect from him the greatest gratitude and consideration? He hesitated, his hand resting on his knee.
"Yet you pretend to love me!" she murmured, her breath fanning his cheek.
He realized that if he refused he would never again feel that sweet breath mingling with his own; that he would have to leave her, go to distant lands, contend with opposing forces, without having that last embrace which inspires men with courage and on the eve of battle makes them confident of victory. Without this powerful stimulus nothing seemed worth struggling for, his mighty enterprise would be in vain.
With a sudden movement Cleopatra slipped the stylet between his fingers.
"Write, write," she cried.