Sardou's Cleopatra — page 64: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

SARDOWS CLEUPATRA. 49 chus, he had driven through the country in a gilded car drawn by lions, and attended by a glit- tering retinue of merry-makers. But all his pre- vious experiences paled into insignificance beside the superb spectacles of this month beneath the burning sun of Egypt. In the arms of his beau- tiful mistress the mighty triumvir has forgotten the whole world. Rome is no longer but a name, a naine without meaning and without value. He lives only in the love-light of Cleopatra’s dusky eyes; the universe is enclosed for him in the embrace of those perfect arms which would make the boasted arms of Hebe appear like those of some slave employed in menial labor. | And Cleopatra? Hitherto, this mistress of the art of charming had remained insensible herself. Of all the passions she had inspired, none had been really shared; she had been loved more than any other woman, but she had never loved. If men dishonored themselves, ruined themselves, died for her, she was indifferent to it all. She was like a beautiful, impassible sphinx, who smiled a changeless, exquisite smile, while com- bats were fought to the death at the foot of the pedestal, where she reigned supreme. But, sud- denly, her sleeping heart had started with a comicbooks (af @) mn , —_)