r, it is true, but in a state of rapid convalescence.

The youth's handsome face was freed from soot, but his eyes were bent in
confusion on the ground, and he sometimes pressed his hand upon his
aching brow. It needed all the old philosopher's skill in persuasion to
induce him to speak, and Philotas, before he began, begged Helena to
leave the room.

He intended to adhere strictly to the truth, though he feared that the
reckless deed into which he had suffered himself to be drawn might have a
fatal effect upon his future life.

Besides, he hoped to obtain wise counsel from the architect, to whom he
owed his speedy recovery, and whose grave, kindly manner inspired him
with confidence; and, moreover, he was so greatly indebted to Didymus
that duty required him to make a frank confession--yet he dared not
acknowledge one of the principal motives of his foolish act.

The plot into which he had been led was directed against Barine, whom he
had long imagined he loved with all the fervour of his twenty years. But,
just before he went to the fatal banquet, he had heard that the young
beauty was betrothed to Dion. This had wounded him deeply; for in many a
quiet hour it had seemed possible to win her for himself and lead her as
his wife to his home in Amphissa. He was very little younger than she,
and if his parents once saw her, they could not fail to approve his
choice. And the people in Amphissa! They would have gazed at Barine as if
she were a goddess.

And now this fine gentleman had come to crush his fairest hopes. No word
of love had ever been exchanged between him and Barine, but how kindly
she had always looked at him, how willingly she had accepted trivial
services! Now she was lost. At first this had merely saddened him, but
after he had drunk the wine, and Antyllus, Antony's son, in the
presence of the revellers, over whom Caesarion presided as
"symposiarch"--[Director of a banquet.]--had accused Barine of capturing
hearts by magic spells, he had arrived at the conviction that he, too,
had been shamefully allured and betrayed.

He had served for a toy, he said to himself, unless she had really loved
him and merely preferred Dion on account of his wealth. In any case, he
felt justified in cherishing resentment against Barine, and with the
number of goblets which he drained his jealous rage increased.

When urged to join in the escapade which now burdened his conscience he
consented with a burning brain in orde