pulace
desired to have the delightful news confirmed, and to express, by a
public demonstration, the grateful joy which filled every heart.

Dion, too, was eager to obtain certainty, and, though usually averse to
mingling with the populace during such noisy outbursts of feeling, he
was preparing to follow the crowd thronging towards the Sebasteum, when
the shouts of runners clearing a passage for a closed litter fell upon
his ear.

It was occupied by Iras, the Queen's trusted attendant. If any one could
give accurate information, it was she; yet it would hardly be possible
to gain an opportunity of conversing with her in this throng. But Iras
must have had a different opinion; she had seen Dion, and now called him
to her side. There were hoarse tones in her voice, usually so clear and
musical, which betrayed the emotion raging in her breast as she assailed
the young Macedonian noble with a flood of questions. Without giving him
the usual greeting, she hastily desired to know what was exciting
the people, who had brought the tidings of victory, and whither the
multitude was flocking?

Dion had found it difficult not to be forced from the litter while
answering. Iris perceived this, and as they were just passing the
Maeander, the labyrinth, which was closed after sunset, she ordered her
bearers to carry the litter to the entrance, made herself known to the
watchman, ordered the outer court to be opened, the litter to be placed
there, and the bearers and runners to wait outside for her summons,
which would soon be given.

This unusual haste and excitement filled Dion with just solicitude. She
refused his invitation to alight and walk up and down, declaring that
life offered so many labyrinths that one need not seek them. He, too,
seemed to be following paths which were scarcely straight ones. "Why,"
she concluded, thrusting her head far out of the opening in the litter,
"are you rendering it so difficult for the Regent and your own uncle to
execute their plans, making common cause with the populace, like a paid
agitator?"

"Like Philostratus, you mean, on whom I bestowed a few blows in addition
to the golden guerdon received from your hand?"

"Ay, like him, for aught I care. Probably it was you, too, who had
him flung into the water, after you had vented your wrath on him?
You managed your cause well. What we do for love's sake is usually
successful. No matter, if only his brother Alexas does not rouse Antony
again