Charmian’s ignorance and silence in regard to these very matters increased the anxiety of the endangered woman, who saw not only her own life, but those dearest to her, seriously threatened.  So she entreated her hostess to relieve her from the uncertainty which was harder to endure than the most terrible reality; but the latter either could not or would not give her any further details of Cleopatra’s intentions, or the fate and present abode of her grandparents and Helena.  This increased her anxiety, for if Alexas’s information was correct, her family must be homeless.  When Charmian at last admitted that she had seen Dion only a few minutes, the tortured Barine’s power of quiet endurance gave way.

She, whose nature was so hopeful that, when the glow of the sunset faded, she already anticipated with delight the rosy dawn of the next day, now beheld in Cleopatra’s hand the reed which was to sign the death-sentence of Dion and herself.  Her mental vision conjured up her relatives wounded by the falling house or bleeding under the stones hurled by the raging populace.  She heard Alexas command the executioner to subject her to the rack, and fancied that Anukis had not returned because she had failed to find Dion.  The Queen’s soldiers had probably carried him to prison, loaded with chains, if Philostratus had not already instigated the mob to drag him through the streets.

With feverish impetuosity, which alarmed Charmian the more because it was so unlike her old friend’s daughter, Barine described all the spectres with which her imagination—­agitated by terror, longing, love, and loathing—­terrified her; but the former exerted all the power of eloquence she possessed, by turns reproving her and loading her with caresses, in order to soothe her and rouse her from her despair.  But nothing availed.  At last she succeeded in persuading the unhappy woman to go with her to the window, which afforded a most beautiful view.  Westward, beyond the Heptastadium, the sun was sinking below the forests of masts in the harbour of the Eunostus; and Charmian, who had learned from her intercourse with the royal children how to soothe a troubled young heart, to divert Barine’s thoughts, directed her attention to the crimson glow in the western sky, and told her how her father, the artist, had showed her the superb brilliancy which colours gained at this hour of the day, even when the west was less radiant than now.  But Barine, who usually could never gaze her fill at such a spectacle, did not thank her, for this sunset reminded her of another which she had lately watched at Dion’s side, and she again broke into convulsive sobs.

Charmian, not knowing what to do, passed her arm around her.  Just at that moment the door was hurriedly thrown open, and Anukis, the Nubian, entered.