Cleopatra found no rest until morning, at the hour when wandering dreams
reenter the Ivory Gate. Amid the illusions of sleep she beheld all kinds
of lovers swimming rivers and scaling walls in order to come to her,
and, through the vague souvenirs of the night before, her dreams
appeared fairly riddled with arrows bearing declarations of love.
Starting nervously from time to time in her troubled slumbers, she
struck her little feet unconsciously against the bosom of Charmion, who
lay across the foot of the bed to serve her as a cushion.
When she awoke, a merry sunbeam was playing through the window curtain,
whose woof it penetrated with a thousand tiny points of light, and
thence came familiarly to the bed, flitting like a golden butterfly over
her lovely shoulders, which it lightly touched in passing by with a
luminous kiss. Happy sunbeam, which the gods might well have envied.
In a faint voice, like that of a sick child, Cleopatra asked to be
lifted out of bed. Two of her women raised her in their arms and gently
laid her on a tiger-skin stretched upon the floor, of which the eyes
were formed of carbuncles and the claws of gold. Charmion wrapped her in
_calasiris_ of linen whiter than milk, confined her hair in a net of
woven silver threads, tied to her little feet cork _tatbebs_ upon the
soles of which were painted, in token of contempt, two grotesque
figures, representing two men of the races of Nahasi and Nahmou, bound
hand and foot, so that Cleopatra literally deserved the epithet,
"Conculcatrix of Nations,"[1] which the royal cartouche inscriptions
bestow upon her.
It was the hour for the bath. Cleopatra went to bathe, accompanied by
her women.
The baths of Cleopatra were built in the midst of immense gardens filled
with mimosas, aloes, carob-trees, citron-trees, and Persian apple-trees,
whose luxuriant freshness afforded a delicious contrast to the arid
appearance of the neighboring vegetation. There, too, vast terraces
uplifted masses of verdant foliage, and enabled flowers to climb almost
to the very sky upon gigantic stairways of rose-colored granite; vases
of Pentelic marble bloomed at the end of each step like huge
lily-flowers, and the plants they contained seemed only their pistils;
chimeras caressed into form by the chisels of the most skilful Greek
sculptors, and less stern of aspect than the Egyptian sphinxes, with
their grim mien and moody attitudes, softly extended their limbs upon
the flower-strewn turf, like shapely white leverettes upon a
drawing-room carpet. These were charming feminine figures, with finely
chiselled nostrils, smooth brows, small mouths, delicately dimpled arms,
breasts fair-rounded and daintily formed; wearing earrings, necklaces,
and all the trinkets suggested by adorable caprice; whose bodies
terminated in bifurcated fishes' tails, like the women described by
Horace, or extended into birds' wings, or rounded into lions' haunches,
or blended into volutes of foliage, according to the fancies of the
artist or in conformity to the architectural position chosen. A double
row of these delightful monsters lined the alley which led from the
palace to the bathing halls.
At the end of this alley was a huge fountain-basin, approached by four
porphyry stairways. Through the transparent depths of the diamond-clear
water the steps could be seen descending to the bottom of the basin,
which was strewn with gold-dust in lieu of sand. Here figures of women
terminating in pedestals like Caryatides[2] spurted from their breasts
slender jets of perfumed water, which fell into the basin in silvery
dew, pitting the clear watery mirror with wrinkle-creating drops. In
addition to this task these Caryatides had likewise that of supporting
upon their heads an entablature decorated with Nereids and Tritons in
bas-relief, and furnished with rings of bronze to which the silken cords
of a velarium might be attached. From the portico was visible an
extending expanse of freshly humid, bluish-green verdure and cool shade,
a fragment of the Vale of Tempe transported to Egypt. The famous gardens
of Semiramis would not have borne comparison with these.
We will not pause to describe the seven or eight other halls of various
temperature, with their hot and cold vapors, perfume boxes, cosmetics,
oils, pumice stone, gloves of woven horsehair, and all the refinements
of the antique balneatory art brought to the highest pitch of voluptuous
perfection.
Hither came Cleopatra, leaning with one hand upon the shoulder of
Charmion. She had taken at least thirty steps all by herself. Mighty
effort, enormous fatigue! A tender tint of rose commenced to suffuse the
transparent skin of her cheeks, refreshing their passionate pallor; a
blue network of veins relieved the amber blondness of her temples; her
marble forehead, low like the antique foreheads, but full and perfect in
form, united by one faultless line with a straight nose, finely
chiselled as a cameo, with rosy nostrils which the least emotion made
palpitate like the nostrils of an amorous tigress; the lips of her
small, rounded mouth, slightly separated from the nose, wore a
disdainful curve; but an unbridled voluptuousness, an indescribable
vital warmth, glowed in the brilliant crimson and humid lustre of the
under lip. Her eyes were shaded by level eyelids, and eyebrows slightly
arched and delicately outlined. We cannot attempt by description to
convey an idea of their brilliancy. It was a fire, a languor, a
sparkling limpidity which might have made even the dog-headed Anubis
giddy. Every glance of her eyes was in itself a poem richer than aught
of Homer or Mimnermus. An imperial chin, replete with force and power to
command, worthily completed this charming profile.
She stood erect upon the upper step of the basin, in an attitude full of
proud grace; her figure slightly thrown back, and one foot in suspense,
like a goddess about to leave her pedestal, whose eyes still linger on
heaven. Her robe fell in two superb folds from the peaks of her bosom to
her feet in unbroken lines. Had Cleomenes been her contemporary and
enjoyed the happiness of beholding her thus, he would have broken his
Venus in despair.
Before entering the water she bade Charmion, for a new caprice, to
change her silver hair-net; she preferred to be crowned with reeds and
lotos-flowers, like a water divinity. Charmion obeyed, and her liberated
hair fell in black cascades over her shoulders, and shadowed her
beautiful cheeks in rich bunches, like ripening grapes.
Then the linen tunic, which had been confined only by one golden clasp,
glided down over her marble body, and fell in a white cloud at her feet,
like the swan at the feet of Leda....
And Meïamoun, where was he?
Oh cruel lot, that so many insensible objects should enjoy the favors
which would ravish a lover with delight! The wind which toys with a
wealth of perfumed hair, or kisses beautiful lips with kisses which it
is unable to appreciate; the water which envelops an adorably beautiful
body in one universal kiss, and is yet, notwithstanding, indifferent to
that exquisite pleasure; the mirror which reflects so many charming
images; the buskin or _tatbeb_ which clasps a divine little foot--oh,
what happiness lost!
Cleopatra dipped her pink heel in the water and descended a few steps.
The quivering flood made a silver belt about her waist, and silver
bracelets about her arms, and rolled in pearls like a broken necklace
over her bosom and shoulders; her wealth of hair, lifted by the water,
extended behind her like a royal mantle; even in the bath she was a
queen. She swam to and fro, dived, and brought up handfuls of gold-dust
with which she laughingly pelted some of her women. Again, she clung
suspended to the balustrade of the basin, concealing or exposing her
treasures of loveliness--now permitting only her lustrous and polished
back to be seen, now showing her whole figure, like Venus Anadyomene,
and incessantly varying the aspects of her beauty.
Suddenly she uttered a cry as shrill as that of Diana surprised by
Actæon. She had seen gleaming through the neighboring foliage a burning
eye, yellow and phosphoric as the eye of a crocodile or lion.
It was Meïamoun, who, crouching behind a tuft of leaves, and trembling
like a fawn in a field of wheat, was intoxicating himself with the
dangerous pleasure of beholding the queen in her bath. Though brave even
to temerity, the cry of Cleopatra passed through his heart, coldly
piercing as the blade of a sword. A death-like sweat covered his whole
body; his arteries hissed through his temples with a sharp sound; the
iron hand of anxious fear had seized him by the throat and was
strangling him.
The eunuchs rushed forward, lance in hand. Cleopatra pointed out to them
the group of trees, where they found Meïamoun crouching in concealment.
Defence was out of the question. He attempted none, and suffered himself
to be captured. They prepared to kill him with that cruel and stupid
impassibility characteristic of eunuchs; but Cleopatra, who, in the
interim, had covered herself with her _calasiris_, made signs to them to
stop, and bring the prisoner before her.
Meïamoun could only fall upon his knees and stretch forth suppliant
hands to her, as to the altars of the gods.
"Are you some assassin bribed by Rome, or for what purpose have you
entered these sacred precincts from which all men are excluded?"
demanded Cleopatra with an imperious gesture of interrogation.
"May my soul be found light in the balance of Amenti, and may Tmeï,
daughter of the Sun and goddess of Truth, punish me if I have ever
entertained a thought of evil against you, O queen!" answered Meïamoun,
still upon his knees.
Sincerity and loyalty were written upon his countenance in characters so
transparent that Cleopatra immediately banished her suspicions, and
looked upon the young Egyptian with a look less stern and wrathful. She
saw that he was beautiful.
"Then what motive could have prompted you to enter a place where you
could only expect to meet death?"
"I love you!" murmured Meïamoun in a low, but distinct voice; for his
courage had returned, as in every desperate situation when the odds
against him could be no worse.
"Ah!" cried Cleopatra, bending toward him, and seizing his arm with a
sudden brusque movement, "so, then, it was you who shot that arrow with
the papyrus scroll! By Oms, the Dog of Hell, you are a very foolhardy
wretch!... I now recognize you. I long observed you wandering like a
complaining Shade about the places where I dwell.... You were at the
Procession of Isis, at the Panegyris of Hermonthis. You followed the
royal cangia. Ah! you must have a queen?... You have no mean ambitions.
You expect, without doubt, to be well paid in return.... Assuredly I am
going to love you.... Why not?"
"Queen," returned Meïamoun with a look of deep melancholy, "do not rail.
I am mad, it is true. I have deserved death; that is also true. Be
humane; bid them kill me."
"No; I have taken the whim to be clement to-day. I will give you your
life."
"What would you that I should do with life? I love you!"
"Well, then, you shall be satisfied; you shall die," answered Cleopatra.
"You have indulged yourself in wild and extravagant dreams; in fancy
your desires have crossed an impassable threshold. You imagined yourself
to be Cæsar or Mark Antony. You loved the queen. In some moment of
delirium you have been able to believe that, under some condition of
things which takes place but once in a thousand years, Cleopatra might
some day love you. Well, what you thought impossible is actually about
to happen. I will transform your dream into a reality. It pleases me,
for once, to secure the accomplishment of a mad hope. I am willing to
inundate you with glories and splendors and lightnings. I intend that
your good fortune shall be dazzling in its brilliancy. You were at the
bottom of the ladder. I am about to lift you to the summit, abruptly,
suddenly, without a transition. I take you out of nothingness, I make
you the equal of a god, and I plunge you back again into nothingness;
that is all. But do not presume to call me cruel or to invoke my pity;
do not weaken when the hour comes. I am good to you. I lend myself to
your folly. I have the right to order you to be killed at once; but
since you tell me that you love me, I will have you killed to-morrow
instead. Your life belongs to me for one night. I am generous. I will
buy it from you; I could take it from you. But what are you doing on
your knees at my feet? Rise, and give me your arm, that we may return to
the palace."
[1] _Conculcatrice des peuples_. From the Latin _conculcare,_ to trample
under foot: therefore, the epithet literally signifies the "Trampler of
nations." (Trans.)
[2] The Greeks and Romans usually termed such figures Hermæ or Termini.
Caryatides were, strictly, entire figures of women.--(Trans.)