The sultry air was damp and oppressive, and experienced old Philippus, who had commanded a fleet of considerable size under the first Ptolemies, agreed with the captain of the vessel, who pointed to several small dark clouds under the silvery stratus, and expressed the fear that Selene would hardly illumine the ship’s course during the coming night.

But before the departure the travellers had offered sacrifices to the foam-born Cyprian Aphrodite and the Dioscuri, the protectors of mariners, and the conversation took the gayest turn.

In the harbour of the neighbouring seaport Tanis they went aboard of the commandant’s state galley, one of the largest and finest in the royal fleet, where a banquet awaited them.

Cushions were arranged on the high poop, and the sea was as smooth as the silver dishes in which viands were offered to the guests.

True, not a breath stirred the still, sultry air, but the three long double ranks of rowers in the hold of the ship provided for her swift progress, and if no contrary wind sprang up she would run into the harbour of Pelusium before the last goblet was emptied.

Soon after the departure it seemed as if the captain of the little vessel had erred in his prediction, for the moon burst victoriously through the black clouds, only its shining orb was surrounded by a dull, glimmering halo.

Doubtless many a guest longed for a cool breeze, but when the mixed wine had moistened the parched tongues the talk gained fresh animation.

Every one did his or her part, for the point in question was to induce Philippus and his wife to visit Alexandria again and spend some time there as beloved guests with Daphne in her father’s house or in the palace of Philotas, who jestingly, yet with many reasons, contested the honour with the absent Archias.

The old warrior had remained away from the capital for several years; he alone knew why.  Now the act which had incensed him and the offence inflicted upon him were forgotten, and, having passed seventy four years, he intended to ask the commander in chief once more for the retirement from the army which the monarch had several times refused, in order, as a free man, to seek again the city which in his present position he had so long avoided.

Thyone, it is true, thought that her husband’s youthful vigour rendered this step premature, but the visit to Alexandria harmonized with her own wishes.

Proclus eagerly sided with her.  “To him,” said the man of manifold knowledge, who as high priest of Apollo was fond of speaking in an instructive tone, “experience showed that men like Philippus, who solely on account of the number of their years withdrew their services from the state, felt unhappy, and, like the unused ploughshare, became prematurely rusty.  What they lacked, and what Philippus would also miss, was not merely the occupation, which might easily be supplied by another, but still more the habit of command.  One who had had thousands subject to his will was readily overcome by the feeling that he was going down hill, when only a few dozen of his own slaves and his wife obeyed him.”