wore the crown that chance has placed upon thy head. Had things followed their usual course,<hr>
instead of being my judge, you would have been among my subjects and I could have rightfully exercised over you <hr>
the power that you usurp from me. <hr>
        However, considering the birth that obliged me to exceptional morality,<hr>
as soon as Hyrcan summoned me to be your wife, knowing the obedience I owed him, without <hr>
taking into account the disparity between us, I accepted you as a husband. You know how I lived <hr>
with you, even though my ideas were utterly opposed to yours. Even if your <hr>
alliance was as honorable as mine was glorious, I could have shown you more <hr>
leniency and demonstrations of love. Since then until the loss of Hyrcan,<hr>
what have I done? What have I said? What have I thought ill of you? Nothing, except that I could not<hr>
rejoice in your victories, as they were bad for my parents. Even though I have a <hr>
heart as vast as my noble birth, I could only ascend to the throne of my <hr>
predecessors in tears, because I did not feel legitimate and just, at least as <hr>
the wife of Herod. But you know that, despite this feeling that both reason and nature gave me,<hr>
I tried at least to hide my sobs from you. Back in those days, I was pushing myself <hr>
to justify you in my mind, and as long as you had ambition without cruelty, I <hr>
would rather approve of you than accuse you. I classified this passion as a flaw of grand natures<hr>
and an infallible mark of a person destined to do great things. How many <hr>
times have I told myself that if fortune had given you legitimate enemies, you would have been <hr>
the greatest prince on earth? How many times have I wished for this large and wonderful <hr>
will that animates you, and this invincible heart that pushes you to undertake everything had led you to <hr>
rule over people whom you could have been the conqueror of instead of the usurper? Alas, !<hr>
If you knew all the wishes I have made for your glory, you would not believe me capable of having <hr>
wanted to set them aside and forget my own. But perhaps it is for this fault that heaven is punishing me? However, I refuse to have regrets, and even though today I am <hr>
in danger of losing my life, I cannot blame myself for having preserved your glory through my <hr>
advice when, against all appearances, you wanted to trust the traitor Barzapharnès. I do not <hr>
blame you for this trust, I simply remind you of it to show that I have always done <hr>
everything I was supposed to do. Since then, I admit I have not always lived this way. I <hr>
no longer hide my tears, I no longer stifle my voice. I have wept, I have screamed, I have voiced my <hr>
grief and my regrets. But what less could the granddaughter of Hyrcan do, who had just <hr>
perished by your command and your cruelty? What less could the sister of Aristobulus do, <hr>
whom your inhumanity had put to death to consolidate the scepter in your hands? No, patience <hr>
would have been criminal then. I was undoubtedly destined for the throne, but I did not want <hr>
to ascend to it, as I could only do so by stepping over the bodies of my grandfather and <hr>
my brother. This throne was stained with their blood, I had to at least wash it with my tears <hr>
since it was not allowed for the blood of their executioners to be spilled. Alas! When I <hr>
<hr>
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                                                    14<hr>