She had been more wearied by the exertions of the last few days than her animated manner revealed.  Yet as soon as Hermon, leaning on the young hipparch’s arm, approached her, she rose and cordially extended both hands to him.  True, the recovering man was still unable to see her features distinctly, but he felt the maternal kindness with which she received him, and what his eyes could not distinguish his ears taught him in her warm greetings.  His heart dilated and, after he had kissed her dear old hand more than once with affectionate devotion, she led him among her guests and presented him to them as the son of her dearest friend.

A strange stir ran through the assembled group, nearly all whose members belonged to the King’s train, and the low whispers and murmurs around him revealed to Hermon that the false wreaths he wore had by no means been forgotten in this circle.

A painful feeling of discomfort overwhelmed the man accustomed to the silence of the desert, and a voice within cried with earnest insistence, “Away from here!”

But he had no time to obey it; an unusually tall, broad-shouldered man, with a thick gray beard and grave, well-formed features, in whom he thought he recognised the great physician Erasistratus, approached Thyone, and asked, “The recluse from the desert with restored sight?”

“The same,” replied the matron, and whispered to the other, who was really the famous scientist and leech whom Hermon had desired to seek in Alexandria.  “Exhaustion will soon overcome me, and how many important matters I had to discuss with you and the poor fellow yonder!”

The physician laid his hand on the matron’s temples, and, raising his voice, said in a tone of grave anxiety:  “Exhaustion!  It would be better for you, honoured lady, to keep your bed.”

“Surely and certainly!” the wife of the chief huntsman instantly assented.  “We have already taxed your strength far too long, my noble friend.”

This welcome confession produced a wonderful effect upon the other visitors, and very soon the last one had vanished from the space under the awning and the courtyard.  Not a single person had vouchsafed Hermon a greeting; for the artist, divested of the highest esteem, had been involved in the ugly suspicion of having driven his uncle from Alexandria, and the monarch was said to have spoken unfavourably of him.

When the last one had left the courtyard, the leech exchanged a quick glance of understanding, which also included Hermon, with Thyone, and the majordomo received orders to admit no more visitors, while Erasistratus exclaimed gaily, “It is one of the physician’s principal duties to keep all harmful things—­including living ones—­from his patient.”

Then he turned to Hermon and had already begun to question him about his health, when the majordomo announced another visitor.  “A very distinguished gentleman, apparently,” he said hastily; “Herophilus of Chalcedon, who would not be denied admittance.”