lt him."
The Regent, who had sent the troop of horsemen to drive the crowd away
from Didymus's house, might well be pleased that the violent measure
encountered so little resistance.
The throng quickly scattered, and was speedily attracted by something new
at the Theatre of Dionysus--the zither-player Anaxenor had just announced
from its steps that Cleopatra and Antony had won the most brilliant
victory, and had sung to the accompaniment of his lute a hymn which had
deeply stirred all hearts. He had composed it long before, and seized the
first opportunity--the report had reached his ears while breakfasting in
Kanopus--to try its effect.
As soon as the square began to empty, Barine left her post of
observation. It was long since her heart had throbbed so violently. Not
one of the many suitors for her favour had been so dear to her as Dion;
but she now felt that she loved him.
What he had just done for her and her grandfather was worthy of the
deepest gratitude; it proved that he did not come to her house, like most
of her guests, merely to while away the evening hours.
It had been no small matter for the young aristocrat, in the presence of
the whole multitude, to enter into a debate with the infamous
Philostratus, and how well he had succeeded in silencing the dreaded
orator! Besides, Dion had even taken her part against his own powerful
uncle, and perhaps by his deed drawn upon himself the hostility of his
enemy's brother, Alexas, Antony's powerful favourite. Barine might assure
herself that he, who was the peer of any Macedonian noble in the city,
would have done this for no one else.
She felt as if the act had ransomed her.
When, after an unhappy marriage and many desolate days, she had regained
her former bright cheerfulness and saw her house become the centre of the
intellectual life of the city, she had striven until now to extend the
same welcome to all her guests. She had perceived that she ought not to
give any one the power over her which is possessed by the man who knows
that he is beloved, and even to Dion she had granted little more than to
the others. But now she saw plainly that she would resign the pleasure of
being a universally admired woman, whose modest home attracted the most
distinguished men in the city, for the far greater happiness which would
be hers as Dion's beloved wife.
With him, cherished by his love, she believed that she could find far
greater joy in solitude than in th
|