“I think,” replied Archibius, “they will afford the world a remarkable spectacle; friends won in prosperity who remain constant in adversity.”

“Do you?” asked Iras, with sparkling eyes.  “If that proves true, how I would praise and value men—­the majority of whom without their wealth would be poorer than beggars.  But look at yonder figure in the white robe beside the left obelisk—­is it not Dion?  The crowd is bearing him away—­I think it was he.”

But she had been deceived; the man whom she fancied she had seen, because her heart so ardently yearned for him, was not near the Sebasteum, and his thoughts were still farther away.

At first he had intended to give the architect the letter which was addressed to him.  He would be sure to find him at the triumphal arch which was being erected on the shore of the Bruchium.  But on reaching the former place he learned that Gorgias had gone to remove the statues of Cleopatra and Antony from the house of Didymus, and erect them in front of the Theatre of Dionysus.  The Regent, Mardion, had ordered it.  Gorgias was already superintending the erection of the foundation.

The huge hewn stones which he required for this purpose had been taken from the Temple of Nemesis, which he was supervising.  Whatever number of government slaves he needed were at his disposal, so Gorgias’s foreman reported, proudly adding that before the sun went down, the architect would have shown the Alexandrians the marvel of removing the twin statues from one place to another in a single day, and yet establishing them as firmly as the Colossus which had been in Thebes a thousand years.

Dion found the piece of sculpture in front of Didymus’s garden, ready for removal, but the slaves who had placed before the platform the rollers on which it was to be moved had already been kept waiting a long time by the architect.

This was his third visit to the old philosopher’s house.  First, he had been obliged to inform him and his family that their property was no longer in danger; then he had come to tell them at what hour he would remove the statues, which still attracted many curious spectators; and, finally, he had again appeared, to announce that they were to be taken away at once.  His foreman or a slave could probably have done this, but Helena—­Didymus’s granddaughter, Barine’s sister—­drew him again and again to the old man’s home.  He would gladly have come still more frequently, for at every meeting he had discovered fresh charms in the beautiful, quiet, thoughtful maiden, who cared so tenderly for her aged grandparents.  He believed that he loved her, and she seemed glad to welcome him.  But this did not entitle him to seek her hand, though his large, empty house so greatly needed a mistress.  His heart had glowed with love for too many.  He wished first to test whether this new fancy would prove more lasting.  If he succeeded in remaining faithful even a few days, he would, as it were, reward himself for it, and appear before Didymus as a suitor.