on earth, and the polished bracelet set with a gem, on which was carved Apollo playing on his lyre, surrounded by the listening Muses, looked very simple, but was really an ornament of priceless value, for the artist who made it was deemed the best stone-cutter in Alexandria in the time of Philadelphus, and each one of the tiny figures sculptured on the bit of onyx scarcely three fingers wide was a carefully executed masterpiece of the most exquisite beauty.  Antony had chosen it because he deemed it a fitting gift for the woman whose song had pleased him.  He had not thought of asking its value; indeed, only a connoisseur would have perceived it; and as the circlet was not showy and well became her beautiful arm, Barine liked to wear it.

Had not the war taken him away, Antony’s second visit would certainly not have been his last.  Besides the singing which enthralled him, the conversation had been gay and brilliant, and in addition to Leonax’s paintings, he had seen other beautiful works of art which the former had obtained by exchanging with many distinguished companions.

Nor was there any lack of plastic creations in the spacious apartment, to which the flashing of the water poured by a powerful man from the goatskin bottle on his shoulder into a shell lent a special charm.

The master who had carved this stooping Nubian had also created the much-discussed statues of the royal lovers.  The clay Eros, who with bent knee was aiming at a victim visible to himself alone, was also his work.  Antony, when paying his second visit, had laughingly laid the garland he wore before “the greatest of human conquerors,” while a short time ago his son Antyllus had rudely thrust his bouquet of flowers into the opening of the curved right arm which was drawing the string.  In doing so the statue had been injured.  Now the flowers lay unheeded upon the little altar at the end of the large room, lighted only by a single lamp; for the ladies had left it with their guest.  They were in Barine’s favourite apartment, a small room, where there were several pictures by her dead father.

Antyllus’s bouquet, and the damage to the clay statue of Eros, had played a prominent part in the conversation between the three, and rendered Archibius’s task easier.

Berenike had greeted the guest with a complaint of the young Roman’s recklessness and unseemly conduct, to which Barine added the declaration that they had now sacrificed enough to Zeus Xenios, the god of hospitality.  She meant to devote her future life to the modest household gods and to Apollo, to whom she owed the gift of song.

Archibius had listened silently in great surprise until she had finished her explanation and declared that henceforth she intended to live alone with her mother, instead of having her father’s workshop filled with guests.