“Let us hope so.  But, my friend, keep your eyes open for other than Roman foes.  Now that it will become known that you do not love her, beware of Iras.  There is something about her which reminds me of the jackal.  Jealousy!—­I believe she would be capable of the worst—­”

“Yet,” Dion interrupted, “Charmian will soften whatever injury Iras plans to do me, and, though I cannot rely much upon my uncle, Archibius is above both and favours us and our marriage.”

Gorgias uttered a sigh of relief, and exclaimed, “Then on to happiness!”

“And you must also begin to provide for yours,” replied Dion warmly.  “Forbid your heart to continue this wandering, nomad life.  The tent which the wind blows down is not fit for the architect’s permanent residence.  Build yourself a fine house, which will defy storms, as you built my palace.  I shall not grudge it, and have already said, the times demand it.”

“I will remember the advice,” replied Gorgias.  “But six eyes are again bent upon me for direction.  There are so many important things to be done while we waste the hours in building triumphal arches for the defeated—­trophies for an overthrow.  But your uncle has just issued orders to complete the work in the most magnificent style.  The ways of destiny and the great are dark; may the brightest sunshine illumine yours!  A prosperous journey!  We shall hear, of course, when you celebrate the wedding, and if I can I shall join you in the Hymenaeus.  Lucky fellow that you are!  Now I’m summoned from over yonder!  May Castor and Pollux, and all the gods favourable to travel, Aphrodite, and all the Loves attend your trip to Irenia, and protect you in the realm of Eros and Hymen!”

With these words the warm-hearted man clasped his friend to his breast for the first time.  Dion cordially responded, and at last shook his hard right hand with the exclamation: 

“Farewell, then, till we meet in Irenia on the wedding day, you dear, faithful fellow.”

Then he entered the chariot which stood waiting, and Gorgias gazed after him thoughtfully.  The hyacinthine purple cloak which Dion wore that day had not vanished from his sight when a loud crashing, rattling, and roaring arose behind him.  A hastily erected scaffold, which was to support the pulleys for raising the statues, had collapsed.  The damage could be easily repaired, but the accident aroused a troubled feeling in the architect’s mind.  He was a child of his time, a period when duty commanded the prudent man to heed omens.  Experience also taught him that when such a thing happened in his work something unpleasant was apt to occur within the circle of his friends.  The veil of the future concealed what might be in store for the beloved couple; but he resolved to keep his eyes open on Dion’s behalf and to request Archibius to do the same.

The pressure of work, however, soon silenced the sense of uneasiness.  The damage was speedily repaired, and later Gorgias, sometimes with one, sometimes with another tablet or roll of Ms. in his hand, issued the most varied orders.