by Georg Ebers
CHAPTER XXIII.
After accompanying Dion to the harbour, the architect had gone to theForum to converse with the men he met there, and learn what they fearedand expected in regard to the future fate of the city.
All news reached this meeting-place first, and he found a large numberof Macedonian citizens who, like himself, wished to discuss passingevents in these decisive hours.
The scene was very animated, for the most contradictory messages wereconstantly arriving from the fleet and the army.
At first they were very favourable; then came the news of the treason,and soon after of the desertion of the cavalry and foot soldiers.
A distinguished citizen had seen Mark Antony, accompanied by severalfriends, dashing down the quay. The goal of their flight was the littlepalace on the Choma.
Grave men, whose opinion met with little opposition, thought that it wasthe duty of the Imperator--now that Fate had decided against him, andnothing remained save a life sullied by disgrace--to put himself todeath with his own hand, like Brutus and so many other noble Romans.Tidings soon came that he had attempted to do what the best citizensexpected.
Gorgias could not endure to remain longer in the Forum, but hastened tothe Choma, though it was difficult to force his way to the wall, wherea breach had been made. He had found the portion of the shore from whichthe promontory ran densely crowded with people--from whom he learnedthat Antony was no longer in the palace--and the sea filled with boats.
A corpse was just being borne out of the little palace on the Streetof the King and, among those who followed, Gorgias recognized one ofAntony's slaves. The man's eyes were red with weeping. He readily obeyedthe architect's sign and, sobbing bitterly, told him that the haplessgeneral, after his army had betrayed him, fled hither. When he heardin the palace that Cleopatra had preceded him to Hades, he ordered hisbody-slave Eros to put an end to his life also. The worthy man drewback, pierced his own breast with his sword, and sank dying at hismaster's feet; but Antony, exclaiming that Eros's example had taught himhis duty, thrust the short sword into his breast with his own hand.Yet deep and severe as was the wound, it did not destroy the tremendousvitality of the gigantic Roman. With touching entreaties he imploredthe bystanders to kill him, but no one could bring himself to commit thedeed. Meanwhile Cleopatra's name, coupled with the wish to follow her,was constantly on the lips of the Imperator.
At last Diomedes, the Queen's private secretary, appeared, to bring him,by her orders, to the mausoleum where she had taken refuge.
Antony, as if animated with fresh vigour, assented, and while beingcarried thither gave orders that Eros should have a worthy burial. Eventhough dying, it would have been impossible for the most generous ofmasters to permit any kindness rendered to pass unrequited.
The slave again wept aloud as he uttered the words, but Gorgias hastenedat once to the tomb. The nearest way, the Street of the King, had becomeso crowded with people who had been forced back by Roman soldiers,between the Theatre of Dionysus and the Corner of the Muses, that he hadbeen compelled to reach the building through a side street.
The quay was already unrecognizable, and even in the other streets thepopulace showed a foreign aspect. Instead of peaceful citizens, Romansoldiers in full armour were met everywhere. Instead of Greek, Egyptian,and Syrian faces, fair and dark visages of alien appearance were seen.
The city seemed transformed into a camp. Here he met a cohort offair-haired Germans; yonder another with locks of red whose home he didnot know; and again a vexil of Numidian or Pannonian horsemen.
At the Temple of the Dioscuri he was stopped. A Hispanian maniple hadjust seized Antony's son Antyllus and, after a hasty court-martial,killed him. His tutor, Theodotus, had betrayed him to the Romans, butthe infamous fellow was being led with bound hands after the corpse ofthe hapless youth, because he was caught in the act of hiding in hisgirdle a costly jewel which he had taken from his neck. Before hisdeparture for the island Gorgias heard that the scoundrel had beensentenced to crucifixion.
At last he succeeded in forcing a passage to the tomb, which he foundsurrounded on all sides by Roman lictors and the Scythian guards of thecity, who, however, permitted him, as the architect, to pass.
The numerous obstacles by which he had been delayed spared him frombecoming an eye-witness of the most terrible scenes of the tragedy whichhad just ended; but he received a minute description from the Queen'sprivate secretary, a well-disposed Macedonian, who had accompanied thewounded Antony, and with whom Gorgias had become intimately acquaintedduring the building of the mausoleum.
Cleopatra had fled to the tomb as soon as the fortune of war turnedin favour of Octavianus. No one was permitted to accompany her exceptCharmian and Iras, who had helped her close the heavy brazen door ofthe massive building. The false report of her death, which had inducedAntony to put an end to his life, had perhaps arisen from the fact thatthe Queen was literally in the tomb.
When, borne in the arms of his faithful servants, he reached themausoleum, mortally wounded, the Queen and her attendants vainlyendeavoured to open the heavy brazen portal. But Cleopatra ardentlylonged to see her dying lover. She wished to have him near to renderthe last services, assure him once more of her devotion, close his eyes,and, if it was so ordered, die with him.
So she and her attendants had searched the place, and when Iras spoke ofthe windlass which stood on the scaffold to raise the heavy brass platebearing the bas-relief of Love conquering Death, the Queen and herfriends hastened up the stairs, the bearer below fastened the woundedman to the rope, and Cleopatra herself stood at the windlass to raisehim, aided by her faithful companions.
Diomedes averred that he had never beheld a more piteous spectacle thanthe gigantic man hovering between heaven and earth in the agonies ofdeath and, while suffering the most terrible torture, extending his armslongingly towards the woman he loved. Though scarcely able to speak, hetenderly called her name, but she made no reply; like Iras and Charmian,she was exerting her whole strength at the windlass in the mostpassionate effort to raise him. The rope running over the pulley cut hertender hands; her beautiful face was terribly distorted; but she did notpause until they had succeeded in lifting the burden of the dying manhigher and higher till he reached the floor of the scaffolding. Thefrantic exertion by which the three women had succeeded in accomplishingan act far beyond their strength, though it was doubled by the power ofthe most earnest will and ardent longing, would nevertheless have failedin attaining its object had not Diomedes, at the last moment, come totheir assistance. He was a strong man, and by his aid the dying Romanwas seized, drawn upon the scaffolding, and carried down the staircaseto the tomb in the first story.
When the wounded general had been laid on one of the couches with whichthe great hall was already furnished, the private secretary retired,but remained on the staircase, an unnoticed spectator, in order to beat hand in case the Queen again needed his assistance. Flushed from theterrible exertion which she had just made, with tangled, dishevelledlocks, gasping and moaning, Cleopatra, as if out of her senses, toreopen her robe, beat her breast, and lacerated it with her nails. Then,pressing her own beautiful face on her lover's wound to stanch theflowing blood, she lavished upon him all the endearing names which shehad bestowed on their love.
His terrible suffering made her forget her own and the sad fateimpending. Tears of pity fell like the refreshing drops of a shower uponthe still unwithered blossoms of their love, and brought those which,during the preceding night, had revived anew, to their last magnificentunfolding.
Boundless, limitless as her former passion for this man, was now thegrief with which his agonizing death filled her heart.
All that Mark Antony had been to her in the heyday of life, all theirmutual experiences, all that each had received from the other, hadreturned to her memory in clear and vivid hues during the banquet whichhad closed a few hours ago. Now these scenes, condensed into a narrowcompass, again passed before her mental vision, but only to reveal moredi
stinctly the depth of misery of this hour. At last anguish forced eventhe clearest memories into oblivion: she saw nothing save the torturesof her lover; her brain, still active, revealed solely the gulf at herfeet, and the tomb which yawned not only for Antony, but for herself.
Unable to think of the happiness enjoyed in the past or to hope for itin the future, she gave herself up to uncontrolled despair, and no womanof the people could have yielded more absolutely to the consuming griefwhich rent her heart, or expressed it in wilder, more frantic language,than did this great Queen, this woman who as a child had been sosensitive to the slightest suffering, and whose after-life had certainlynot taught her to bear sorrow with patience. After Charmian, at thedying man's request, had given him some wine, he found strength to speakcoherently, instead of moaning and sighing.
He tenderly urged Cleopatra to secure her own safety, if it could bedone without dishonour, and mentioned Proculejus as the man most worthyof her confidence among the friends of Octavianus. Then he entreated hernot to mourn for him, but to consider him happy; for he had enjoyed therichest favours of Fortune. He owed his brightest hours to her love; buthe had also been the first and most powerful man on earth. Now hewas dying in the arms of Love, honourable as a Roman who succumbed toRomans.
In this conviction he died after a short struggle.
Cleopatra had watched his last breath, closed his eyes, and then thrownherself tearlessly on her lover's body. At last she fainted, and layunconscious with her head upon his marble breast.
The private secretary had witnessed all this, and then returned withtearful eyes to the second story. There he met Gorgias, who had climbedthe scaffolding, and told him what he had seen and heard from thestairs. But his story was scarcely ended when a carriage stopped at theCorner of the Muses and an aristocratic Roman alighted. This was thevery Proculejus whom the dying Antony had recommended to the woman heloved as worthy of her confidence.
"In fact," Gorgias continued, "he seemed in form and features one of thenoblest of his haughty race. He came commissioned by Octavianus, andis said to be warmly devoted to the Caesar, and a well-disposed man.We have also heard him mentioned as a poet and a brother-in-law ofMaecenas. A wealthy aristocrat, he is a generous patron of literature,and also holds art and science in high esteem. Timagenes lauds hisculture and noble nature. Perhaps the historian was right; but where theobject in question is the state and its advantage, what we here regardas worthy of a free man appears to be considered of little moment at thecourt of Octavianus. The lord to whom he gives his services intrustedhim with a difficult task, and Proculejus doubtless considered it hisduty to make every effort to perform it--and yet----If I see aright, aday will come when he will curse this, and the obedience with which he,a free man, aided Caesar But listen.
"Erect and haughty in his splendid suit of armour, he knocked at thedoor of the tomb. Cleopatra had regained consciousness and asked--shemust have known him in Rome--what he desired.
"He had come, he answered courteously, by the command of Octavianus, tonegotiate with her, and the Queen expressed her willingness to listen,but refused to admit him into the mausoleum.
"So they talked with each other through the door. With dignifiedcomposure, she asked to have the sons whom she had given to Antony--notCaasarion--acknowledged as Kings of Egypt.
"Proculejus instantly promised to convey her wishes to Caesar, and gavehopes of their fulfilment.
"While she was speaking of the children and their claims--she did notmention her own future--the Roman questioned her about Mark Antony'sdeath, and then described the destruction of the dead man's army andother matters of trivial importance. Proculejus did not look like ababbler, but I felt a suspicion that he was intentionally trying to holdthe attention of the Queen. This proved to be his design; he had beenmerely waiting for Cornelius Gallus, the commander of the fleet, of whomyou have heard. He, too, ranks among the chief men in Rome, and yet hemade himself the accomplice of Proculejus.
"The latter retired as soon as he had presented the new-comer to thehapless woman.
"I remained at my post and now heard Gallus assure Cleopatra of hismaster's sympathy. With the most bombastic exaggeration he describedhow bitterly Octavianus mourned in Mark Antony the friend, thebrother-in-law, the co-ruler and sharer in so many importantenterprises. He had shed burning tears over the tidings of his death.Never had more sincere ones coursed down any man's cheeks.
"Gallus, too, seemed to me to be intentionally prolonging theconversation.
"Then, while I was listening intently to understand Cleopatra's briefreplies, my foreman, who, when the workmen were driven away by theRomans, had concealed himself between two blocks of granite, came to meand said that Proculejus had just climbed a ladder to the scaffold inthe rear of the monument. Two servants followed, and they had all stolendown into the hall.
"I hastily started up. I had been lying on the floor with my headoutstretched to listen.
"Cost what it might, the Queen must be warned. Treachery was certainlyat work here.
"But I came too late.
"O Dion! If I had only been informed a few minutes before, perhapssomething still more terrible might have happened, but the Queen wouldhave been spared what now threatens her. What can she expect from theconqueror who, in order to seize her alive, condescends to outwit anoble, defenceless woman, who has succumbed to superior power?
"Death would have released the unhappy Queen from sore trouble andhorrible shame. And she had already raised the dagger against her life.Before my eyes she flung aloft her beautiful arm with the flashingsteel, which glittered in the light of the candles in the many-branchedcandelabra beside the sarcophagi. But I will try to remain calm! Youshall hear what happened in regular order. My thoughts grow confused asthe terrible scene recurs to my memory. To describe it as I saw it, Ishould need to be a poet, an artist in words; for what passed beforeme happened on a stage--you know, it was a tomb. The walls were of darkstone-dark, too, were the pillars and ceiling--all dark and glittering;most portions were smoothly polished stone, shining like a mirror. Nearthe sarcophagi, and around the candelabra as far as the vicinity of thedoor, where the rascally trick was played, the light was brilliant as ina festal hall. Every blood-stain on the hand, every scratch, every woundwhich the desperate woman had torn with her own nails on her bosom,which gleamed snow-white from her black robes, was distinctly visible.Farther away, on the right and left, the light was dim, and near theside walls the darkness was as intense as in a real tomb. On the smoothporphyry columns, the glittering black marble and serpentine--here,there, and everywhere--flickered the wavering reflection of thecandlelight. The draught kept it continually in motion, and it waveredto and fro in the hall, like the restless souls of the damned. Whereverthe eye turned it met darkness. The end of the hall seemed black--blackas the anteroom of Hades--yet through it pierced a brilliant moving bar;sunbeams which streamed from the stairway into the tomb and amid whichdanced tiny motes. How the scene impressed the eye! The home of gloomyHecate! And the Queen and her impending fate. A picture flooded withlight, standing forth in radiant relief against the darkness of theheavy, majestic forms surrounding it in a wide circle. This tomb inthis light would be a palace meet for the gloomy rule of the king of thetroop of demons conjured up by the power of a magician--if they have aruler. But where am I wandering? 'The artist!' I hear you exclaim again,'the artist! Instead of rushing forward and interposing, he standsstudying the light and its effects in the royal tomb.' Yes, yes; I hadcome too late, too late--far too late! On the stairs leading to thelower story of the building I saw it, but I was not to blame for thedelay--not in the least!
"At first I had been unable to see the men--or even a shadow; but Ibeheld plainly in the brightest glare of the light the body of MarkAntony on the couch and, in the dusk farther towards the right, Irasand Charmian trying to raise a trapdoor. It was the one which closedthe passage leading to the combustible materials stored in the cellar.A sign from the Queen had commanded them to fire it.
The first stepsof the staircase, down which I was hastening, were already behindme--then--then Proculejus, with two men, suddenly dashed from theintense darkness on the other side. Scarcely able to control myself,I sprang down the remaining steps, and while Iras's shrill cry, 'PoorCleopatra, they will capture you!' still rang in my ears, I saw thebetrayed Queen turn from the door through which, resolved on death, shewas saying something to Gallus, perceive Proculejus close behind her,thrust her hand into her girdle, and with the speed of lightning--youhave already heard so--throw up her arm with the little dagger to burythe sharp blade in her breast. What a picture! In the full radiance ofthe brilliant light, she resembled a statue of triumphant victory or ofnoble pride in great deeds accomplished; and then, then, only an instantlater, what an outrage was inflicted!
"Like a robber, an assassin, Proculejus rushed upon her, seized her arm,and wrested the weapon from her grasp. His tall figure concealed herfrom me. But when, struggling to escape from the ruffian's clutch,she again turned her face towards the hall, what a transformation hadoccurred! Her eyes--you know how large they are--were twice their usualsize, and blazed with scorn, fury, and hatred for the traitor. Thecheering light had become a consuming fire. So I imagine the vengeance,the curse which calls down ruin upon the head of a foe. And Proculejus,the great lord, the poet whose noble nature is praised by the authors onthe banks of the Tiber, held the defenceless woman, the worthy daughterof a brilliant line of kings, in a firm grasp, as if it required theexertion of all his strength to master this delicate embodiment ofcharming womanhood. True, the proud blood of the outwitted lioness urgedher to resist this profanation, and Proculejus--an enviable honour--madeher feel the superior strength of his arm. I am no prophet, but Dion,I repeat, this shameful struggle and the glances which flashed uponhim will be remembered to his dying hour. Had they been darted at me, Ishould have cursed my life.
"They blanched even the Roman's cheeks. He was lividly pale as hecompleted what he deemed his duty. His own aristocratic hands weredegraded to the menial task of searching the garments of a woman, theQueen, for forbidden wares, poisons or weapons. He was aided by one ofCaesar's freedmen, Epaphroditus, who is said to stand so high in thefavour of Octavianus.
"The scoundrel also searched Iras and Charmian, yet all the time bothRomans constantly spoke in cajoling terms of Caesar's favour; and hisdesire to grant Cleopatra everything which was due a Queen.
"At last she was taken back to Lochias, but I felt like a madman; forthe image of the unfortunate woman pursued me like my shadow. It wasno longer a vision of the bewitching sovereign nay, it resembled theincarnation of despair, tearless anguish, wrath demanding vengeance. Iwill not describe it; but those eyes, those flashing, threateningeyes, and the tangled hair on which Antony's blood had flowed-terrible,horrible! My heart grew chill, as if I had seen upon Athene's shield thehead of the Medusa with its serpent locks.
"It had been impossible for me to warn her in time, or even to seize thetraitor's arm--I have already said so--and yet, yet her shining imagegazed reproachfully at me for my cowardly delay. Her glance still hauntsme, robbing me of calmness and peace. Not until I gaze into Helena'spure, calm eyes will that terrible vision of the face, flooded by lightin the midst of the tomb, cease to haunt me."
His friend laid his hand on his arm, spoke soothingly to him, andreminded him of the blessings which this terrible day--he had said sohimself--had brought.
Dion was right to give this warning; for Gorgias's bearing and the verytone of his voice changed as he eagerly declared that the frightfulevents had been followed by more than happy ones for the city, hisfriend, and Barine.
Then, with a sigh of relief, he continued: "I pursued my way home likea drunken man. Every attempt to approach the Queen or her attendants wasbaffled, but I learned from Charmian's clever Nubian that Cleopatra hadbeen permitted, in Caesar's name, to choose the palace she desired tooccupy, and had selected the one at Lochias.
"I did not make much progress towards my house; the crowd in front ofthe great gymnasium stopped me. Octavianus had gone into the city,and the people, I heard, had greeted him with acclamations and flungthemselves on their knees before him. Our stiff-necked Alexandriansin the dust before the victor! It enraged me, but my resentment wasdiminished.
"The members of the gymnasium all knew me. They made way and, ere I wasaware of it, I had passed through the door. Tall Phryxus had drawn myarm through his. He appears and vanishes at will, is as alert as he isrich, sees and hears everything, and manages to secure the best places.This time he had again succeeded; for when he released me we werestanding opposite to a newly erected tribune.
"They were waiting for Octavianus, who was still in the hypostyleof Euergetes receiving the homage of the epitrop, the members of theCouncil, the gymnasiarch, and I know not how many others.
"Phryxus said that on Caesar's entry he had held out his hand to hisformer tutor, bade him accompany him, and commanded that his sons shouldbe presented. The philosopher had been distinguished above every oneelse, and this will benefit you and yours; for he is Berenike's brother,and therefore your wife's uncle. What he desires is sure to be granted.You will hear at once how studiously the Caesar distinguishes him. I donot grudge it to the man; he interceded boldly for Barine; he is laudedas an able scholar, and he does not lack courage. In spite of Actium andthe only disgraceful deed with which, to my knowledge, Mark Antony couldbe reproached--I mean the surrender of Turullius--Arius remained here,though the Imperator might have held the friend of Julius Caesar'snephew as a hostage as easily as he gave up the Emperor's assassin.
"Since Octavianus encamped before the city, your uncle has been inserious danger, and his sons shared his peril. Surely you must know thehandsome, vigorous young Ephebi.
"We were not obliged to wait long in the gymnasium ere the Caesarappeared on the platform; and now--if your hand clenches, it is onlywhat I expect--now all fell on their knees. Our turbulent, rebelliousrabble raised their hands like pleading beggars, and grave, dignifiedmen followed their example. Whoever saw me and Phryxus will remember usamong the kneeling lickspittles; for had we remained standing we shouldcertainly have been dragged down. So we followed the example of theothers."
"And Octavianus?" asked Dion eagerly.
"A man of regal bearing and youthful aspect; beardless face of thefinest chiselling, a profile as beautiful as if created for thecoin-maker; all the lines sharp and yet pleasing; every inch anaristocrat; but the very mirror of a cold nature, incapable of any loftyaspiration, any warm emotion, any tenderness of feeling. All in all,a handsome, haughty, calculating man, whose friendship would hardlybenefit the heart, but from whose enmity may the immortals guard all welove!
"Again he led Arius by the hand. The philosopher's sons followed thepair. When he stood on the stage, looking down upon the thousandskneeling before him, not a muscle of his noble face--it is certainlythat--betrayed the slightest emotion. He gazed at us like a farmersurveying his flocks and, after a long silence, said curtly in excellentGreek that he absolved the Alexandrians from all guilt towards him:first--he counted as if he were summoning individual veterans to rewardthem--from respect for the illustrious founder of our city, Alexander,the conqueror of the world; secondly, because the greatness and beautyof Alexandria filled him with admiration; and, thirdly--he turned toArius 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 burdenremoved from his mind, and the throng had scarcely left the gymnasiumwhen they were again laughing saucily enough, and there was no lack ofbiting and innocent jests.
"The fat carpenter, Memnon--who furnished the wood-work for yourpalace--exclaimed close beside me that formerly a dolphin had savedArius from the pirates; now Arius was saving marine Alexandria from therobbers. So the sport went on. Philostratus, Barine's first husband,offered the best butt for jests. The agitator had good reason to fearthe worst; and now, clad in bl
ack mourning robes, ran after Arius, whombut 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 Romansoldiers. They fared well enough; for in the joy of their hearts manya prosperous citizen who saw his property saved invited individualwarriors, or even a whole maniple, to the taverns or cook-shops, andthe stock of wine in Alexandrian cellars will be considerably diminishedto-night.
"Many, as I have already said, had been quartered in the houses, withorders to spare the property of the citizens; and it was in this waythat the misfortune with which I commenced my narrative befell thegrandmother. She died before my departure.
"All the gates of the city will now stand open to you, and the nieceof Arius and her husband will be received with ovations. I don't grudgeBarine the good fortune; for the way in which your noble wife, whohad cast her spell over me too, flung aside what is always dear to theadmired city beauty and found on the loneliest of islands a new world inlove, is worthy of all admiration and praise. For yourself, I dread newhappiness and honours; if they are added to those which Fate bestowedupon you in such a wife and your son Pyrrhus, the gods would not bethemselves if they did not pursue you with their envy. I have lessreason to fear them."
"Ungrateful fellow!" interrupted his friend. "There will be numerousmortals to grudge you Helena. As for me, I have already felt many aslight foreboding; but we have already paid by no means a small tributeto the divine ones. The lamp is still burning in the sitting-room.Inform the sisters of their grandmother's death, and tell them thepleasant tidings you have brought us, but reserve until the morninga description of the terrible scenes you witnessed. We will not spoiltheir sleep. Mark my words! Helena's silent grief and her joy at ourescape will lighten your heart."
And so it proved. True, Gorgias lived over again in his dreams thefrightful spectacle witnessed the day before; but when the sun of the2d day of August rose in full radiance over Alexandria and, early inthe morning, boat after boat reached the Serpent Island, landing firstBerenike and her nephews, the sons of the honoured philosopher Arius,then clients, officials, and friends of Dion, and former favouriteguests of Barine, to greet the young pair and escort them from therefuge which had so long sheltered them back to the city and theirmidst, new and pleasant impressions robbed the gloomy picture of a largeportion of its terrors.
"Tall Phryxus" had rapidly spread the news of the place where Dion andBarine had vanished, and that they had long been happily wedded. Manydeemed it well worth a short voyage to see the actors in so strange anadventure and be the first to greet them. Besides, those who knew Barineand her husband were curious to learn how two persons accustomed to thelife of a great capital had endured for months such complete solitude.Many feared or expected to see them emaciated and careworn, haggard orsunk in melancholy, and hence there were a number of astonished facesamong those whose boats the freedman Pyrrhus guided as pilot through theshallows which protected his island.
The return of this rare couple to their home would have afforded anexcellent opportunity for gay festivities. Sincerely as the majorityof the populace mourned the fate of the Queen, and gravely as themore thoughtful feared for Alexandria's freedom under Roman rule,all rejoiced over the lenient treatment of the city. Their lives andproperty were safe, and the celebration of festivals had become a lifehabit with all classes. But the news of the death of Didymus's wife andthe illness of the old man, who could not bear up under the loss of hisfaithful companion, gave Dion a right to refuse any gay welcome at hishome.
Barine's sorrow was his also, and Didymus died a few days after hiswife, with whom he had lived in the bonds of love for more than half acentury--people said, "of a broken heart."
So Dion and his young wife entered his beautiful palace with no noisyfestivities. Instead of the jubilant hymenaeus, the voice of his ownchild greeted him on the threshold.
The mourning garments in which Barine welcomed him in the women'sapartment reminded him of the envy of the gods which his friend hadfeared for him. But he often fancied that his mother's statue in thetablinum looked specially happy when the young mistress of the houseentered it.
Barine, too, felt that her happiness as wife and mother in hermagnificent home would have been overwhelming had not a wise destinyimposed upon her, just at this time, grief for those whom she loved.
Dion instantly devoted himself again to the affairs of the city and hisown business. He and the woman he loved, who had first become really hisown during a time of sore privation, had run into the harbour and gazedquietly at the storms of life. The anchor of love, which moored theirship to the solid earth, had been tested in the solitude of the SerpentIsland.