houts of joy, declaring themselves ready to avenge
insulted youth upon Barine, than the "King of kings" suddenly sprang from
the cushions on which he had listlessly reclined, and with flashing eyes
shouted that whoever called himself his friend must aid him in the
attack.

Here he was urged to still greater haste by another impatient "Go on!"
from his master, and hurriedly continued his story, describing how they
had blackened their faces and armed themselves with Antyllus's swords and
lances. As the sun was setting they went in a covered boat through the
Agathodamon Canal to Lake Mareotis. Everything must have been arranged in
advance; for they landed precisely at the right hour.

As, during the trip, they had kept up their courage by swallowing the
most fiery wine, Philotas had staggered on shore with difficulty and then
been dragged forward by the others. After this he knew nothing more,
except that he had rushed with the rest upon a large harmamaxa,--[A
closed Asiatic travelling-carriage with four wheels]--and in so doing
fell. When he rose from the earth all was over.

As if in a dream he saw Scythians and other guardians of the peace seize
Antyllus, while Caesarion was struggling on the ground with another man.
If he was not mistaken it was Dion, Barine's betrothed husband.

These communications were interrupted by many exclamations of impatience
and wrath; but now Didymus, fairly frantic with alarm, cried:

"And the child--Barine?"

But when Philotas's sole reply to this question was a silent shake of the
head, indignation conquered the old philosopher, and clutching his
pupil's chiton with both hands, he shook him violently, exclaiming
furiously:

"You don't know, scoundrel? Instead of defending her who should be dear
to you as a child of this household, you joined the rascally scorners of
morality and law as the accomplice of this waylayer in purple!"

Here the architect soothed the enraged old man with expostulations, and
the assertion that everything must now yield to the necessity of
searching for Barine and Dion. He did not know which way to turn, in the
amount of labour pressing upon him, but he would have a hasty talk with
the foreman and then try to find his friend.

"And I," cried the old man, "must go at once to the unfortunate child.-My
cloak, Phryx, my sandals!"

In spite of Gorgias's counsel to remember his age and the inclement
weather, he cried angrily:

"I am going, I say! If the tem