Part 49 (2/2)
The glance of the queen went through and through her guests like arrows of softly burning light. It was impossible to withdraw one's eyes from her; impossible to shake off the spell of an enjoyable magnetism. If she moved her long, shapely fingers, it was speech; if she raised her hand, eloquence. As shade after shade of varying emotion seemed to pa.s.s across Cleopatra's face, it was as if one saw the workings of a masterful spirit as in a mirror; and now could cry, ”This is one of the Graces,” and now ”This is one of the Fates,” as half-girlish candour and sweetness was followed by a lightning flash from the eyes, disclosing the deep, far-recessed subtleties of the soul within. Cornelia had entered the hall haughty, defiant; a word and a look--she was the most obedient va.s.sal.
Cornelia had seen many a splendid banquet and dinner party in Rome.
Even Oriental kings had not a great deal to teach the ”masters of the toga” in ostentatious luxury. Perhaps the queen had realized this. The present occasion called, indeed for very little formality, for, besides Cornelia, Cleomenes was the only guest; and when that gentleman inquired politely if his Majesty, the King Ptolemaeus, was to honour them with his presence, Cleopatra replied, with an eloquent raising of the eyebrows:--
”The king will be to-night, as he always is, with his tutor--Pothinus.”
There was indescribable scorn in the last word.
The doors of the reception hall had been flung back on noiseless pivots by unseen hands. The banqueting room disclosed within was not so much a room as a garden. Flowers, flowers were everywhere, roses, violets, narcissuses, and a score of others breathing forth a heavy fragrance. Overhead, the goldstudded ceiling was converted into a vast arbour of blending flowery tints. The room was large, very large for only three banqueters; on the walls, from out between the potted tropical plants, shone marvellous marble reliefs, one hundred in all; and in betwixt them were matchless paintings. Framing, after a fas.h.i.+on, the pictures, were equally perfect embroideries, portraying in silk and fine linen the stories of Thebes, the kingly house of Argos, and many another myth of fame. The pillars of the room represented palm trees and Bacchic thyrsi; skins of wild beasts were fastened high up to the walls; and everywhere was the sheen of silver and gold, the splendour of scarlet and purple tapestries.
”The decorations of this room,” said the queen, as her two guests entered, ”are nearly all preserved from the great banqueting pavilion of Ptolemaeus Philadelphus, which he erected for the grand festival that ushered in his reign.”
Cornelia drew back as her foot crossed the threshold. Her sandals trod on the fair white cup of a blooming lily. The queen laughed as merrily as a little girl at her confusion.
”In Rome, I doubt not,” she said, smiling, ”there are not flowers enough at this time of year to have them for a carpet. But this is Alexandria. Flowers are never out of bloom.”
So Cornelia advanced, but perhaps it grieved her more to tread on the innocent flowers, than any small thing had since she left Baiae.
And then the banquet, if such it may be termed when there are but three to enjoy it, began. Cleopatra knew well that she could not overwhelm her Roman guest with show of plate and gems, nor did she try. But Cornelia forgot about such things long before they rose. For the queen displayed to her a myriad dainty perfections and refinements that never had endeared themselves to the grosser Italian gourmands.
Cleomenes had whispered to his companion, before they reached the palace, ”Plato tells of four sorts of flattery; but I can promise you a thousand sorts from Cleopatra if she but cares to win your friends.h.i.+p.” And surely the queen did thus desire. For Cornelia was surfeited with strange dishes, and rare sherbets, flowers, and music; surfeited with everything save the words that fell from the lips of Cleopatra.
The more the queen spoke, the more complete became the va.s.salage of her guest. Cornelia discovered that this woman, who was but little older than she, could speak fluently seven languages, and carried about with her an exceedingly accurate knowledge, not merely of the administration of Egypt, but of the politics of Rome, and the details of the great contest racking the Republic. When Cleopatra asked questions concerning Roman affairs, Cornelia was fain to confess ignorance and be put to shame. And as the evening advanced, Cornelia found herself talking with more and more confidence to this woman that she had never addressed until an hour before. Cleopatra of course knew, as all Alexandria knew, that Cornelia and Fabia were Roman ladies of the highest rank, who had been forced to take refuge abroad until the political crisis was over. But now Cornelia told the queen the true reasons that had led her to be willing to submit to Demetrius's friendly kidnapping; and when, in a burst of frankness,--which in a saner moment Cornelia would have deemed unwise,--she told of her betrothal to Drusus and willingness to wait long for him, if they might only come together in the end, the queen seemed unable to speak with her usual bright vivacity. Presently she said:--
”So you love this young man as none other? You are willing to be all your life his handmaid, his slave?”
”I love him, a.s.suredly,” said Cornelia, with a little heat. ”And so far as being all my life his slave, I've given that never so much as a thought. Where love is, there slavery cannot be.”
”And where love is not, there slavery must be, doubtless you wish to add?” broke in the queen.
”I should be very miserable if I had nothing to love, which I might love purely, and feel myself the n.o.bler and happier thereby.”
”Then pity us poor mortals who cannot climb up to your Olympus! Eh, my very n.o.ble Cleomenes,” went on the queen, addressing the Greek, ”do I not deserve compa.s.sion, that I have not been able to find some Tigranes of Armenia, or Parthian prince, who will be all in all to me, and make me forget everything in wors.h.i.+pping him?”
These were the first words that evening that had grated on Cornelia. A little ruffled, she replied:--
”I fear, O queen, that if you are awaiting a Tigranes or an Artavasdes to sue for your hand, you will indeed never find a lord to wors.h.i.+p.
Quintus Drusus is indeed wealthy at Rome, his family n.o.ble, he may rise to great things; but I would not lay down my life for him because of his wealth, his lineage, or his fair prospects. It is not these things which make a common woman love a man.”
”But I am not a common woman,” responded Cleopatra, with emphasis. ”I am ambitious, not to be led, but to lead. I must rule or I must die. I cannot love a master, only fear him. Why, because I was born a woman, must I give up all my royal aspirations to rise to a great place among princes, to build up a great empire in the East, to make Alexandria a capital with the power of Rome, the culture of Athens, the splendour of Babylon, all in one? It is because I have these hopes stirring in me that I may love no man, can love no man! Nothing shall stand in my way; nothing shall oppose me. Whoever thwarts my ambitions, the worse for him; let him die--all things must die, but not I, until I have won my power and glory!”
For once, at least, the queen's emotions had run away with her; she spoke hotly, pa.s.sionately, as though tearing her words from the recesses of her throbbing heart. Her wonderful voice was keyed in half-bitter defiance. For the moment Cornelia was mistress, and not the queen.
”O queen,” broke in the young Roman, ”would you know how I feel toward you?”
Cleopatra looked at her with dilated eyes.
”I feel for you a very great sorrow. I know not whether you will or will not do as you wish--set your empire over the far East, a rival, friendly, I hope, to our Rome; but this I know, that with your glory, and with your renown among men for all time, you will go down to your grave with an empty heart. And I know not what may compensate for that.”
Cleomenes was clearly a little disturbed at this turn to the conversation; but Cleopatra bowed her head on her hands. It was only for an instant. When she looked up once more there were tears in her eyes, which she made no effort to conceal. The look of high defiance had faded from her face.
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