“Since Octavianus encamped before the city, your uncle has been in serious danger, and his sons shared his peril.  Surely you must know the handsome, vigorous young Ephebi.

“We were not obliged to wait long in the gymnasium ere the Caesar appeared on the platform; and now—­if your hand clenches, it is only what I expect—­now all fell on their knees.  Our turbulent, rebellious rabble raised their hands like pleading beggars, and grave, dignified men followed their example.  Whoever saw me and Phryxus will remember us among the kneeling lickspittles; for had we remained standing we should certainly have been dragged down.  So we followed the example of the others.”

“And Octavianus?” asked Dion eagerly.

“A man of regal bearing and youthful aspect; beardless face of the finest chiselling, a profile as beautiful as if created for the coin-maker; all the lines sharp and yet pleasing; every inch an aristocrat; but the very mirror of a cold nature, incapable of any lofty aspiration, any warm emotion, any tenderness of feeling.  All in all, a handsome, haughty, calculating man, whose friendship would hardly benefit the heart, but from whose enmity may the immortals guard all we love!

“Again he led Arius by the hand.  The philosopher’s sons followed the pair.  When he stood on the stage, looking down upon the thousands kneeling before him, not a muscle of his noble face—­it is certainly that—­betrayed the slightest emotion.  He gazed at us like a farmer surveying his flocks and, after a long silence, said curtly in excellent Greek that he absolved the Alexandrians from all guilt towards him:  first—­he counted as if he were summoning individual veterans to reward them—­from respect for the illustrious founder of our city, Alexander, the conqueror of the world; secondly, because the greatness and beauty of Alexandria filled him with admiration; and, thirdly—­he turned to Arius as he spoke—­to give pleasure to his admirable and beloved friend.

“Then shouts of joy burst forth.

“Every one, from the humblest to the greatest, had had a heavy burden removed from his mind, and the throng had scarcely left the gymnasium when they were again laughing saucily enough, and there was no lack of biting and innocent jests.

“The fat carpenter, Memnon—­who furnished the wood-work for your palace—­exclaimed close beside me that formerly a dolphin had saved Arius from the pirates; now Arius was saving marine Alexandria from the robbers.  So the sport went on.  Philostratus, Barine’s first husband, offered the best butt for jests.  The agitator had good reason to fear the worst; and now, clad in black mourning robes, ran after Arius, whom but a few months ago he persecuted with the most vindictive hatred, continually repeating this shallow bit of verse: 

     “‘If he is a wise man, let the wise aid the wise.’

“Reaching home was not easy.  The street was swarming with Roman soldiers.  They fared well enough; for in the joy of their hearts many a prosperous citizen who saw his property saved invited individual warriors, or even a whole maniple, to the taverns or cook-shops, and the stock of wine in Alexandrian cellars will be considerably diminished to-night.