CAESAR (rising). A murder!
APOLLODORUS (at the back, waving his hand for silence). S-sh! Silence. Did you hear that?
CAESAR. Another cry?
APOLLODORUS (returning to the table). No, a thud. Something fell on the beach, I think.
RUFIO (grimly, as he rises). Something with bones in it, eh?
CAESAR (shuddering). Hush, hush, Rufio. (He leaves the table and returns to the colonnade: Rufio following at his left elbow, and Apollodorus at the other side.)
CLEOPATRA (still in her place at the table). Will you leave me, Caesar? Apollodorus: are you going?
APOLLODORUS. Faith, dearest Queen, my appetite is gone.
CAESAR. Go down to the courtyard, Apollodorus; and find out what has happened.
Apollodorus nods and goes out, making for the staircase by which Rufio ascended.
CLEOPATRA. Your soldiers have killed somebody, perhaps. What does it matter?
The murmur of a crowd rises from the beach below. Caesar and Rufio look at one another.
CAESAR. This must be seen to. (He is about to follow Apollodorus when Rufio stops him with a hand on his arm as Ftatateeta comes back by the far end of the roof, with dragging steps, a drowsy satiety in her eyes and in the corners of the bloodhound lips. For a moment Caesar suspects that she is drunk with wine. Not so Rufio: he knows well the red vintage that has inebriated her.)
RUFIO (in a low tone). There is some mischief between those two.
FTATATEETA. The Queen looks again on the face of her servant.
Cleopatra looks at her for a moment with an exultant reflection of her murderous expression. Then she flings her arms round her; kisses her repeatedly and savagely; and tears off her jewels and heaps them on her. The two men turn from the spectacle to look at one another. Ftatateeta drags herself sleepily to the altar; kneels before Ra; and remains there in prayer. Caesar goes to Cleopatra, leaving Rufio in the colonnade.
CAESAR (with searching earnestness). Cleopatra: what has happened?
CLEOPATRA (in mortal dread of him, but with her utmost cajolery). Nothing, dearest Caesar. (With sickly sweetness, her voice almost failing) Nothing. I am innocent. (She approaches him affectionately) Dear Caesar: are you angry with me? Why do you look at me so? I have been here with you all the time. How can I know what has happened?
CAESAR (reflectively). That is true.
CLEOPATRA (greatly relieved, trying to caress him). Of course it is true. (He does not respond to the caress.) You know it is true, Rufio.
The murmur without suddenly swells to a roar and subsides.
RUFIO. I shall know presently. (He makes for the altar in the burly trot that serves him for a stride, and touches Ftatateeta on the shoulder.) Now, mistress: I shall want you. (He orders her, with a gesture, to go before him.)
FTATATEETA (rising and glowering at him). My place is with the Queen.
CLEOPATRA. She has done no harm, Rufio.
CAESAR (to Rufio). Let her stay.
RUFIO (sitting down on the altar). Very well. Then my place is here too; and you can see what is the matter for yourself. The city is in a pretty uproar, it seems.
CAESAR (with grave displeasure). Rufio: there is a time for obedience.
RUFIO. And there is a time for obstinacy. (He folds his arms doggedly.)
CAESAR (to Cleopatra). Send her away.
CLEOPATRA (whining in her eagerness to propitiate him). Yes, I will. I will do whatever you ask me, Caesar, always, because I love you. Ftatateeta: go away.
FTATATEETA. The Queen’s word is my will. I shall be at hand for the Queen’s call. (She goes out past Ra, as she came.)
RUFIO (following her). Remember, Caesar, YOUR bodyguard also is within call. (He follows her out.)
Cleopatra, presuming upon Caesar’s submission to Rufio, leaves the table and sits down on the bench in the colonnade.
CLEOPATRA. Why do you allow Rufio to treat you so? You should teach him his place.
CAESAR. Teach him to be my enemy, and to hide his thoughts from me as you are now hiding yours.
CLEOPATRA (her fears returning). Why do you say that, Caesar? Indeed, indeed, I am not hiding anything. You are wrong to treat me like this. (She stifles a sob.) I am only a child; and you turn into stone because you think some one has been killed. I cannot bear it. (She purposely breaks down and weeps. He looks at her with profound sadness and complete coldness. She looks up to see what effect she is producing. Seeing that he is unmoved, she sits up, pretending to struggle with her emotion and to put it bravely away.) But there: I know you hate tears: you shall not be troubled with them. I know you are not angry, but only sad; only I am so silly, I cannot help being hurt when you speak coldly. Of course you are quite right: it is dreadful to think of anyone being killed or even hurt; and I hope nothing really serious has — (Her voice dies away under his contemptuous penetration.)
CAESAR. What has frightened you into this? What have you done? (A trumpet sounds on the beach below.) Aha! That sounds like the answer.
CLEOPATRA (sinking back trembling on the bench and covering her face with her hands). I have not betrayed you, Caesar: I swear it.
CAESAR. I know that. I have not trusted you. (He turns from her, and is about to go out when Apollodorus and Britannus drag in Lucius Septimius to him. Rufio follows. Caesar shudders.) Again, Pompey’s murderer!
RUFIO. The town has gone mad, I think. They are for tearing the palace down and driving us into the sea straight away. We laid hold of this renegade in clearing them out of the courtyard.
CAESAR. Release him. (They let go his arms.) What has offended the citizens, Lucius Septimius?
LUCIUS. What did you expect, Caesar? Pothinus was a favorite of theirs.
CAESAR. What has happened to Pothinus? I set him free, here, not half an hour ago. Did they not pass him out?
LUCIUS. Ay, through the gallery arch sixty feet above ground, with three inches of steel in his ribs. He is as dead as Pompey. We are quits now, as to killing — you and I.
CAESAR. (shocked). Assassinated! — our prisoner, our guest! (He turns reproachfully on Rufio) Rufio —
RUFIO (emphatically — anticipating the question). Whoever did it was a wise man and a friend of yours (Cleopatra is qreatly emboldened); but none of US had a hand in it. So it is no use to frown at me. (Caesar turns and looks at Cleopatra.)
CLEOPATRA (violently — rising). He was slain by order of the Queen of Egypt. I am not Julius Caesar the dreamer, who allows every slave to insult him. Rufio has said I did well: now the others shall judge me too. (She turns to the others.) This Pothinus sought to make me conspire with him to betray Caesar to Achillas and Ptolemy. I refused; and he cursed me and came privily to Caesar to accuse me of his own treachery. I caught him in the act; and he insulted me — ME, the Queen! To my face. Caesar would not revenge me: he spoke him fair and set him free. Was I right to avenge myself? Speak, Lucius.
LUCIUS. I do not gainsay it. But you will get little thanks from Caesar for it.
CLEOPATRA. Speak, Apollodorus. Was I wrong?
APOLLODORUS. I have only one word of blame, most beautiful. You should have called upon me, your knight; and in fair duel I should have slain the slanderer.
CLEOPATRA (passionately). I will be judged by your very slave, Caesar. Britannus: speak. Was I wrong?
BRITANNUS. Were treachery, falsehood, and disloyalty left unpunished, society must become like an arena full of wild beasts, tearing one another to pieces. Caesar is in the wrong.
CAESAR (with quiet bitterness). And so the verdict