When the three again sat alone before the plain clay mixing vessel it seemed to the lonely young couple as if the best part of the city life which they had left behind had found its way to them, and what did they not have to say to one another!  Dion and Barine talked of their hermit life, Gorgias of the Queen and the tomb, which was at the same time a treasure chamber.  The slanting walls were built as firmly as if they were intended to last for centuries and defy a violent assault.  The centre of the lower story was formed by a lofty hall of vast dimensions, in whose midst were the large marble sarcophagi.  Men were working busily upon the figures in relief intended for the decoration of the sides and lids.  This hall, whose low arched ceiling was supported by three pairs of heavy columns, was furnished like a reception-room.  The couches, candelabra, and altars were already being made.  Charmian had kept the fugitives well informed.  In the subterranean chambers at the side of the hall, and in the second story, which could not be commenced until the ceiling was completed, store-rooms were to be made, and below and beside them were passages for ventilation and the storage of combustible materials.

Gorgias regretted that he could not show his friend the hall, which was perhaps the handsomest and most costly he had ever created.  The noblest material-brown porphyry, emerald-green serpentine, and the dark varieties of marble-had been used, and the mosaic and brass doors, which were nearing completion, were masterpieces of Alexandrian art.  To have all this destroyed was a terrible thought, but even more unbearable was that of its object—­to receive the body of the Queen.

Again rapturous admiration of this greatest and noblest of women led Gorgias to enthusiastic rhapsodies, until Dion exercised his office of soberer, and Barine asked tidings of her mother, her grandparents, and her sister.  There was nothing but good news to be told.  True, the architect had to wage a daily battle with the old philosopher, who termed it an abuse of hospitality to remain so long at his friend’s with his whole family; but thus far Gorgias had won the victory, even against Berenike, who wished to take her father and his household to her own home.

Cleopatra had purchased the house and garden of Didymus at thrice their value, the architect added.  He was now a wealthy man, and had commissioned him to build a new mansion.  The land facing the sea and near the museum had been found, but the handsome residence would not be completed until summer.  The dry Egyptian air would have permitted him to roof it sooner, but there were many of Helena’s wishes—­most of them very sensible ones—­to be executed.

Barine and Dion glanced significantly at each other; but the architect, perceiving it, exclaimed:  “Your mute language is intelligible enough, and I confess that for five months Helena has seemed to me the most attractive of maidens.  I see, too, that she has some regard for me.  But as soon as I stand before her—­the Queen, I mean—­and hear her voice, it seems as if a tempest swept away every thought of Helena, and it is not in my nature to deceive any one.  How can I woo a girl whom I so deeply honour—­your sister, Barine—­when the image of another rules my soul?”