I was no doubt destined for the throne, but I did not want to ascend, as I could only do so by stepping over the bodies of my grandfather and brother. This throne was tainted with their blood, it had to at least be cleansed with my tears since it was not permitted to shed the blood of their executioners. Alas! When I remember this act worthy of compassion, that of seeing this successor of so many kings, this venerable old man, receive death from the one he welcomed into his family, I tremble with horror, and I cannot turn my attention away, except when the image of an inert Aristobulus presents itself to my eyes. What had this unfortunate done to deserve his punishment? He was young, wise, unanimously good, his biggest fault was probably resembling me. But alas! This flaw should have been advantageous for him then because if it were true that you had for me this ardent love that you always tried to persuade me of having for you, even if Aristobulus was not my brother, even if he had been guilty, you should always have respected my image in him. The likeness of the loved one could soften the cruelest and make them change their plan. But why do I address this to he who wishes to harm me and who, in addition to overthrowing my ancestors' throne, had my grandfather killed, my brother drowned, and all my family eliminated? He is now trying to tarnish my honour by accusing me unjustly of three crimes that I am incapable of contemplating. It is assumed that I sent my portrait to Antony, that I had a special relationship with Joseph, and that I plotted against your life. Is it conceivable that Mariamne should answer such accusations? Isn't it enough to say that if I am accused, then I am innocent? No, I see clearly that despite my circumstances and my morals, I must prepare to be unjustly condemned. Even though I come from a lineage where I only have to answer for my actions to God alone, I still have to justify them before you who are my accusers, my enemies, and my judges. You allege that I sent my portrait to Antony, someone I don’t know and who has never seen me. Without providing any details on this matter, other than that he was in Egypt at the time, you still want this accusation to be considered as absolute truth. But tell me, who is the painter who made it? Who delivered it? Who are the people Antony showed it to? Where are the letters that he wrote to thank me for such a favour? For it is hard to believe that he would have received such an extraordinary proof of my affection without expressing his gratitude. Mariamne's heart is not such an inglorious conquest that there would not be kings on earth who would not be flattered to have accomplished it. However, there are no traces of the gifts that Antony would have brought to win me over or keep me. And frankly, on this occasion, I should have not only forgotten my own glory, but also completely lost my senses for contemplating the crime I am accused of.