“Don’t flatter yourself with this hope,” pleaded Gorgias.  “Serious obstacles may interpose.  I am to have another talk with the Nubian later.  With no offence to others, I believe her advice will be the best.  She knows how matters stand with the lofty, and yet herself belongs to the lowly.  Besides, through Charmian the way to the Queen lies open, and nothing which happens at court escapes her notice.  She showed me that we must consider Barine’s delivery to Alexas a piece of good fortune.  How easily jealousy might have led to a fatal crime one whose wish promptly becomes action, unless she curbs the undue zeal of her living tools!  Those on whom Fate inflicts so many blows rarely are in haste to spare others.  Would the anxieties which weigh upon her like mountains interpose between the Queen and the jealous rancour which is too petty for her great soul?”

“What is great or petty to the heart of a loving woman?” asked Dion.  “In any case you will do what you can to remove Barine from the power of the enraged princess—­I know.”

Gorgias pressed his friend’s hand closely, then, yielding to a sudden impulse, kissed him on the forehead and hurried to the door.

On the threshold a faint moan from the wounded man stopped him.  Would he be strong enough to follow the long passage leading to the sea?

Dion protested that he confidently expected to do so, but his deeply flushed face betrayed that the fever which had once been conquered had returned.

Gorgias’s eyes sought the floor in deep thought.  Many sick persons were borne to the temple in the hope of cure; so Dion’s appearance would cause no special surprise.  On the other hand, to have strangers carry him through the passage seemed perilous.  He himself was strong, but even the strongest person would have found it impossible to support the heavy burden of a grown man to the sea, for the gallery was low and of considerable length.  Still, if necessary, he would try.  With the comforting exclamation, “If your strength does not suffice, another way will be found,” he took his leave, gave Barine’s maid and the wounded man’s body-slave the necessary directions, commanded the door-keeper to admit no one save the physician, and stepped into the open air.

A little band of Ephebi were pacing to and fro before the house.  Others had flung themselves down in an open space surrounded by shrubbery in the Paneum garden, and were drinking the choice wine which Dion’s cellarer, by his orders, had brought and was pouring out for the crowd.

It was an animated scene, for the clients of the sufferer, who, after expressing their sympathy, had been dismissed by the porter, and bedizened girls had joined the youths.  There was no lack of jests and laughter, and when some pretty young mother or female slave passed by leading children, with whom the garden was a favourite playground, many a merry word was exchanged.

Gorgias waved his hands gaily to the youths, pleased with the cheerfulness with which the brave fellows transformed duty into a festival, and many raised their wine-cups, shouting a joyous “Io” and “Evoe,” to drink the health of the famous artist who not long ago had been one of themselves.