pproaching end.

"Now that the tomb is rising, she ponders constantly upon death. She, who
was taught by Epicurus to strive for freedom from pain and is so
sensitive to the slightest bodily suffering, is still seeking a path
which, with the least agony, will lead to the eternal rest for which she
longs. Iras and the younger pupils of Olympus are aiding her. The old man
furnishes all sorts of poisons, which she tries upon various
animals--nay, recently even on criminals sentenced to death. All these
experiments seem to prove that the bite of the uraeus serpent, whose
image on the Egyptian crown symbolizes the sovereign's instant power over
life and death, stills the heart most swiftly and with the least
suffering.

"How terrible these things are! What pain it causes to see the being one
loves most, the mother of the fairest children, so cruelly heighten the
anguish of parting, choose death, as it were, for a constant companion,
amid the whirl of the gayest amusements! She daily looks all his terrors
in the face, yet with proud contempt turns her back upon the bridge which
might perhaps enable her for a time to escape the monster. This is grand,
worthy of her, and never have I loved her more tenderly.

"You, too, must think of her kindly. She deserves it. A noble heart which
sees itself forced to pity a foe, easily forgives; and was she ever your
enemy?

"I have written a long, long letter to solace your seclusion from the
world and relieve my own heart. Have patience a little while longer. The
time is not far distant when Fate itself will release you from exile. How
often your relatives, Archibius and Gorgias, whom I now see frequently in
the presence of the Queen, long to visit you!--but they, too, believe
that it might prove a source of danger."

The warnings in this letter were confirmed by another from Archibius, and
soon after they heard that Caesarion had really sailed up the Nile for
Ethiopia with his tutor Rhodon, and Antyllus had been sent to Asia to
visit Octavianus. The latter had received him, it is true; but sent him
home without making any pledges.

These tidings were not brought by letter, but by Gorgias himself, whose
visit surprised them one evening late in March.

Rarely had a guest received a more joyous welcome. When he entered the
bare room, Barine was making a net and telling the fisherman's daughter
Dione the story of the wanderings of Ulysses. Dion, too, listened
attentively, now and then