He knew that Octavianus was encamped in the Hippodrome east of Alexandria.  The white mounds which had risen there had been recognized as tents, even from the Serpent Island.  Pyrrhus had returned in the afternoon with tidings that Antony’s mounted troops had defeated those of Octavianus.  This time the news of victory could be trusted, for the palace at Lochias was illuminated for a festival and when Dion landed there was a great bustle on the quay.  One shouted to another that all would be well.  Mark Antony was his old self again.  He had fought like a hero.

Many who yesterday had cursed him, to-day mingled their voices in the shouts of “Evoe!” which rang out for the new Dionysus, who had again proved his claim to godship.

The late visitor found the grandparents alone in the house of Gorgias.  They had been informed of Barine’s new happiness long before.  Now they rejoiced with Dion, and wanted to send at once for their host and future son-in-law, who was in the city attending a meeting of the Ephebi, although he had ceased some time ago to be a member of their company.  But Dion wished to greet him among the youths who had invited the architect to give them his aid in deciding the question of the course they were to pursue in the impending battle.

Yet he did not leave the old couple immediately; he was expecting two visitors—­Barine’s mother and Charmian’s Nubian maid who, since the birth of little Pyrrhus, had come to the philosopher’s every evening.  The former’s errand was to ask whether any news of the mother and child had been received during the day; the latter, to get the letters which she delivered the next morning at the fish-market to her friend Pyrrhus or his sons.

Anukis was the first to appear.  She relieved her sympathizing heart by a brief expression of congratulations; but, gladly as she would have listened to the most minute details concerning the beloved young mother from the lips of Dion himself, she repressed her own wishes for her mistress’s sake, and returned to Charmian as quickly as possible to inform her of the arrival of the unexpected guest.

Berenike bore her new dignity of grandmother with grateful joy, yet to-night she came oppressed by a grave anxiety, which was not solely due to her power of imagining gloomy events.  Her brother Arius and his sons were concealed in the house of a friend, for they seemed threatened by a serious peril.  Hitherto Antony had generously borne the philosopher no ill-will on the score of his intimate relations with Octavianus; but now that Octavianus was encamped outside the city, the house of the man who, during the latter’s years of education, had been his mentor and counsellor, and later a greatly valued friend, was watched, by Mardion’s orders, by the Scythian guard.  He and his family were forbidden to enter the city, and his escape to his friend had been effected under cover of the darkness and with great danger.