The smoke cleared away, the cedar doors of the temple reopened, and the Queen reappeared. She was very pale. Under her sparkling necklaces her bosom was heaving. Her large eyes were gazing far off, beyond earthly things, into that region of prophecy whither her prayer had ascended. What had she seen there? What had she heard? What communication from the oracle did the High Priest have to bring? Three blasts of the trumpet announced that the Queen was about to speak. She came to the edge of the first step, and her voice, sweet as a flute, pronounced these words:
"May the name of Serapis be praised! His mercy is upon us. He promises glory and prosperity to Egypt. On your seed the Nile will spread her blessed waters and will make your wheat to swell!"
A tremendous clamour arose. From the thousands of throats it swelled like the roar of a hurricane. With enthusiasm, with an almost insane gratitude, as though the miracle had already taken place, thanks began to pour forth.
With a gesture like that of Neptune when he bids the floods be still, the Queen commanded silence. She had not yet finished speaking.
"The goodness of Serapis," she said, "surpasses our hopes. He loves Egypt; he wishes for it greatness and prosperity. From him will come a warrior whose sword cannot know defeat."
A new burst of enthusiasm arose, which this time nothing could suppress. It was a general delirium, a reaching out toward joy, toward that great unknown happiness which the mass as well as the individual expects from the future.
The shield was again lowered. The Queen climbed up lightly, barely touching the three ivory steps of the wooden stool, then, with the fans waving above her head, the panther crouching at her feet, she took again the road leading to the palace. Shouts, flowers, and palms greeted her on every side, but she did not seem to see any of these things.
Lost in a world of thought, she was dreaming her own dreams. However skeptical she might have felt, she had been impressed by the words of the High Priest. Would a warrior really come? And if he did, who would he be? A name came to her mind. With curious persistence, past memories began to fill her fancy. Some details, almost forgotten, came back to her. One evening, nearly three years before, in the villa on the banks of the Tiber; the conversation between Cæsar and Trebonius had grown dull. The question had come up as to whether the committees would meet again or be abolished from the concourse. Suddenly the door was flung open and Mark Antony entered. It was a new life that came in. He was laughing; his hair fell over his forehead; his shoulders, cut like those of his ancestor, Hercules, were strong enough to carry the Nemean lion. His presence impregnated the atmosphere of the room with youth, with warm, glowing exuberance, and straightway Cleopatra had felt his covetous eyes fall on her, with that look which a woman always understands. How often since that first evening she had felt that same look, that frank admission on the part of the man that he was no longer master of himself. And another evening, when they had been left alone for a moment, she had felt the warm touch of his lips on her shoulder. Her surprise and embarrassment had been so great that, wishing to conceal them, she had sought refuge in flight. Since then he had been more reserved; but if he did not speak, if his manner were constrained, it was because his loyalty to Cæsar had put a seal upon his lips. How would he have dared do otherwise? And Cleopatra, though fully aware of his feeling, how would she have received an avowal of his love? Undoubtedly Cæsar's exalted position restrained his inferior officer, who owed everything to him, from trespassing on forbidden ground; just as it prevented Cleopatra from yielding to any passing fancy. However tempting the athletic beauty of Mark Antony, glory was her chief ambition. She would let nothing stand in the way of that. But to-day death had changed everything. Mark Antony stood in Cæsar's place; he had no master for a rival. Could it be that he was the saviour whom the god had promised?