“Yes, Yes!” cried Cleopatra. “So she did. He owes her much; but I, too, am indebted to the dead Fulvia. She taught him to recognize and yield to woman’s power.”
“Not always to his advantage,” retorted Lucilius, whose resentment was revived by the last sentence and, without heeding the faint flush on the Queen’s cheek, he added: “Of Octavia he said that she was the straight path which leads to happiness, and those who are content to walk in it are acceptable to gods and men.”
“Then why did he not suffer it to content him?” cried Cleopatra wrathfully.
“Fulvia’s school,” replied the Roman, “was probably the last where he would learn the moderation which—as you know—is so alien to his nature. His opinion of the quiet valleys and middle course you have just heard.”
“But I, what have I been to him?” urged the Queen.
Lucilius bent his gaze for a short time on the floor, then answered hesitatingly:
“You asked to hear, and the Queen’s command must be obeyed. He compared your Majesty to a delicious banquet given to celebrate a victory, at which the guests, crowned with garlands, revel before the battle——”
“Which is lost,” said the Queen hurriedly, in a muffled voice. “The comparison is apt. Now, after the defeat, it would be absurd to prepare another feast. The tragedy is closing, so the play (doubtless he said so) which preceded it would be but a wearisome repetition if performed a second time. One thing, it is true, seems desirable—a closing act of reconciliation. If you think it is in my power to recall my husband to active life, rely upon me. The banquet of which he spoke occupied long years. The dessert will consume little time, but I am ready to serve it. When I asked permission to visit him he refused. What plan of meeting have you arranged?”
“That I will leave to your feminine delicacy of feeling,” replied Lucilius. “Yet I have come with a request whose fulfilment will perhaps contain the answer. Eros, Mark Antony’s faithful body-slave, humbly petitions your Majesty to grant him a few minutes’ audience. You know the worthy fellow. He would die for you and his master, and he—I once heard from your lips the remark of King Antiochus, that no man was great to his body-slave—thus Eros sees his master’s weaknesses and lofty qualities from a nearer point of view than we, and he is shrewd. Antony gave him his freedom long ago, and if your Majesty does not object to receiving a man so low in station——”
“Let him come,” replied Cleopatra. “Your demand upon me is just. Unhappily, I am but too well aware of the atonement due your friend. Before you came, I was engaged in making preparations for the fulfilment of one of his warmest wishes.”