desert, now closer at hand. It is the bucina, the Roman war
trumpet.)

CAESAR. Hark!

CLEOPATRA (trembling). What was that?

CAESAR. Caesar's voice.

CLEOPATRA (pulling at his hand). Let us run away. Come. Oh, come.

CAESAR. You are safe with me until you stand on your throne to
receive Caesar. Now lead me thither.

CLEOPATRA (only too glad to get away). I will, I will. (Again the
bucina.) Oh, come, come, come: the gods are angry. Do you feel
the earth shaking?

CAESAR. It is the tread of Caesar's legions.

CLEOPATRA (drawing him away). This way, quickly. And let us look
for the white cat as we go. It is he that has turned you into a
Roman.

CAESAR. Incorrigible, oh, incorrigible! Away! (He follows her,
the bucina sounding louder as they steal across the desert. The
moonlight wanes: the horizon again shows black against the sky,
broken only by the fantastic silhouette of the Sphinx. The sky
itself vanishes in darkness, from which there is no relief until
the gleam of a distant torch falls on great Egyptian pillars