arlight.

The only persons distinctly visible were Dion, who had stationed himself
on the lofty framework of the platform on which the muffled statues
had been drawn hither, and the attorney Philostratus, who stood on the
pedestal of one of the dolphins which surrounded the fountain between
the Temple of Isis and the street. The space, a dozen paces wide, which
divided them, permitted the antagonists to understand each other, and
the attention of the whole throng was fixed upon the wranglers.

These verbal battles were one of the greatest pleasures of the
Alexandrians, and they greeted every clever turn of speech with shouts
of applause, every word which displeased them with groans, hisses, and
cat-calls.

Barine could see and hear what was passing below. She had pushed aside
the foliage of the laurel bushes which concealed her, and, with her
hand raised to her ear, stood listening to the two disputants. When the
scoundrel whom she had called husband, and for whom her contempt had
become too deep for hate, sneeringly assailed her family as having been
fed from generation to generation from the corn-bin of the Museum, she
bit her lips. But they soon curled, as if what she heard aroused
her disgust, for the speaker now turned to Dion and accused him of
preventing the kindly disposed Regent from increasing the renown of the
great Queen and affording her noble heart a pleasure.

"My tongue," he cried, "is the tool which supports me. Why am I using it
here till it is weary and almost paralyzed? In honour of Cleopatra, our
illustrious Queen, and her generous friend, to whom we all owe a debt of
gratitude. Let all who love her and the divine Antony, the new Herakles
and Dionysus--both will soon make their entry among us crowned with the
laurels of victory--join the Regent and every well-disposed person in
seizing yonder bit of land so meanly withheld by base avarice and a
sentiment--a sentiment, do you hear?--which I do not name more plainly,
simply because wickedness is repulsive to me, and I do not stand here
as an accuser. Whoever upholds the word-monger who spouts forth books as
the dolphin at my side does water, may do so. I shall not envy him. But
first look at Didymus's ally and panegyrist. There he stands opposite to
me. It would have been better for him had the dolphin at his feet taught
him silence. Then he might have remained in the obscurity which befits
him.

"But whether willing or not, I must drag him forth