in unpunished, and, while waiting for her
daughter, she imagined what evil consequences might ensue if Antyllus
were forbidden the house and accused to his tutor, and how unbearable,
on the other hand, he might become if they omitted to do so.
She was full of sad presentiments, and as, with such good reason, she
feared the worst, she cherished a faint hope that her daughter might
perhaps bring home some pleasant tidings; for she had had the experience
that events which had filled her with the utmost anxiety sometimes
resulted in good fortune.
At last Barine appeared, and it was indeed long since she had clasped
her mother in her arms with such joyous cheerfulness.
The widow's troubled heart grew lighter. Her daughter must have met with
something unusually gratifying, she looked so happy, although she had
surely heard what had happened here; for her cloak was laid aside and
her hair newly arranged, so she must have been to her chamber, where
she was dressed by her loquacious Cyprian slave, who certainly could not
keep to herself anything that was worth mentioning. The nimble maid had
shown her skill that day.
"Any stranger would take her for nineteen," thought her mother. "How
becoming the white robe and blue-bordered peplum are to her; how softly
the azure bombyx ribbon is wound around the thick waves of her hair! Who
would believe that no curling-irons had touched the little golden locks
that rest so gracefully on her brow, that no paint-brush had any share
in producing the rose and white hues on her cheek, or the alabaster
glimmer of her arms? Such beauty easily becomes a Danae dower; but it
is a magnificent gift of the gods! Yet why did she put on the bracelet
which Antony gave her after his last visit? Scarcely on my account. She
can hardly expect Dion at so late an hour. Even while I am rejoicing in
the sight of her beauty, some new misfortune may be impending."
So ran the current of her thoughts while her daughter was gaily
describing what she had witnessed at her grandfather's. Meanwhile she
had nestled comfortably among the cushions of a lounge; and when
she mentioned Antyllus's unseemly conduct, she spoke of it, with a
carelessness that startled Berenike, as a vexatious piece of rudeness
which must not occur again.
"But who is to prevent it?" asked the mother anxiously.
"Who, save ourselves?" replied Barine. "He will not be admitted."
"And if he forced his way in?"
Barine's big blue eyes flas
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