And she drew near to me with arms outstretched and pitiful trembling lips and gazed upon my face.
“Charmion,” I answered, “we are free to act for good or evil, and yet methinks there is a Fate above our fate, that, blowing from some strange shore, compels our little sails of purpose, set them as we will, and drives us to destruction. I forgive thee, Charmion, as I trust in turn to be forgiven, and by this kiss, the first and the last, I seal our peace.” And with my lips I touched her brow.
She spoke no more; only for a little while she stood gazing on me with sad eyes. Then she lifted the goblet, and said:
“Royal Harmachis, in this deadly cup I pledge thee! Would that I had drunk of it ere ever I looked upon thy face! Pharaoh, who, thy sins outworn, yet shalt rule in perfect peace o’er worlds I may not tread, who yet shalt sway a kinglier sceptre than that I robbed thee of, for ever, fare thee well!”
She drank, cast down the cup, and for a moment stood with the wide eyes of one who looks for Death. Then He came, and Charmion the Egyptian fell prone upon the floor, dead. And for a moment more I stood alone with the dead.
I crept to the side of Cleopatra, and, now that none were left to see, I sat down on the bed and laid her head upon my knee, as once before it had been laid in that night of sacrilege beneath the shadow of the everlasting pyramid. Then I kissed her chill brow and went from the House of Death—avenged, but sorely smitten with despair!
“Physician,” said the officer of the Guard as I went through the gates, “what passes yonder in the Monument? Methought I heard the sounds of death.”
“Naught passes—all hath passed,” I made reply, and went.
And as I went in the darkness I heard the sound of voices and the running of the feet of Cæsar’s messengers.
Flying swiftly to my house I found Atoua waiting at the gates. She drew me into a quiet chamber and closed the doors.