Apollonius and many of his companions felt as if happiness in person had entered this imperilled house, and many an eye brightened when the infuriated old man exclaimed in an altered tone, “You here, Barine?” and she, without heeding the presence of the others, kissed his cheek with tender affection.

Helena, Gorgias, and the old philosopher Euphranor, had approached her, and when the latter asked with loving reproach, “Why, Barine, how did you get through the howling mob?” she answered gaily:  “That a learned member of the Museum may receive me with the query whether I am here, though from childhood a kind or—­what do you think, grandfather?—­a malign fate has preserved me from being overlooked, and some one else reprovingly asks how I passed through the shouting mob, as if it were a crime to wade into the water to hold out a helping hand to those we love best when it is up to their chins!  But, oh! dear, this howling is too hideous!”

While speaking, she pressed her little hands on the part of the kerchief which concealed her ears, and said no more until the noise subsided, although she declared that she was in a hurry, and had only come to learn how matters were.  Meanwhile it seemed as if she was so full of quick, pulsing life, that it was impossible to leave even a moment unused, if it were merely to bestow or answer a friendly glance.

The architect and her sister were obliged to return hurried answers to hasty questions; and as soon as she ascertained what had brought the strangers there she thanked Apollonius, and said that old friends would do their best to spare her grandfather such a sorrow.

In reply to repeated inquiries from the two old men in regard to her arrival there, she answered:  “Nobody will believe it, because in this hurry I could not keep my mouth shut; but I acted like a mute fish and reached the water.”  Then, drawing her grandfather aside, she whispered to him that, when she left her boat at the harbour, Archibius had seen her from his carriage, and instantly stopped it to inform her of his intended visit that evening.  He was coming to discuss an important matter.  Therefore she must receive the worthy man, whom she sincerely liked, so she could not stay.  Then turning to the others still with her kerchief on her head ready for departure—­she asked what the people meant by their outcries.  The architect replied that Philostratus had endeavoured to make the crowd believe that the only appropriate site for the statues of which she had heard was her grandfather’s garden, and he thought he knew in whose behalf the fellow was acting.

“Certainly not in the Regent’s,” said Apollonius, in a tone of sincere conviction; but Barine, over whose sunny brow a shadow had flitted when Gorgias uttered the orator’s name, assented with a slight bend of the head, and then whispered hurriedly, yet earnestly, that she would answer for the old man’s allowing himself to be persuaded, if he had only time to collect his thoughts.