easant hours, and he could not help bestowing gifts upon any one
to whom he was indebted for anything pleasant. He liked to be considered
the most generous spendthrift on earth, and the polished bracelet set
with a gem, on which was carved Apollo playing on his lyre, surrounded
by the listening Muses, looked very simple, but was really an ornament
of priceless value, for the artist who made it was deemed the best
stone-cutter in Alexandria in the time of Philadelphus, and each one of
the tiny figures sculptured on the bit of onyx scarcely three fingers
wide was a carefully executed masterpiece of the most exquisite beauty.
Antony had chosen it because he deemed it a fitting gift for the woman
whose song had pleased him. He had not thought of asking its value;
indeed, only a connoisseur would have perceived it; and as the circlet
was not showy and well became her beautiful arm, Barine liked to wear
it.

Had not the war taken him away, Antony's second visit would certainly
not have been his last. Besides the singing which enthralled him, the
conversation had been gay and brilliant, and in addition to Leonax's
paintings, he had seen other beautiful works of art which the former had
obtained by exchanging with many distinguished companions.

Nor was there any lack of plastic creations in the spacious apartment,
to which the flashing of the water poured by a powerful man from the
goatskin bottle on his shoulder into a shell lent a special charm.

The master who had carved this stooping Nubian had also created the
much-discussed statues of the royal lovers. The clay Eros, who with bent
knee was aiming at a victim visible to himself alone, was also his work.
Antony, when paying his second visit, had laughingly laid the garland he
wore before "the greatest of human conquerors," while a short time
ago his son Antyllus had rudely thrust his bouquet of flowers into the
opening of the curved right arm which was drawing the string. In doing
so the statue had been injured. Now the flowers lay unheeded upon the
little altar at the end of the large room, lighted only by a single
lamp; for the ladies had left it with their guest. They were in Barine's
favourite apartment, a small room, where there were several pictures by
her dead father.

Antyllus's bouquet, and the damage to the clay statue of Eros, had
played a prominent part in the conversation between the three, and
rendered Archibius's task easier.

Berenike had greeted the g