es
of marble-had been used, and the mosaic and brass doors, which were
nearing completion, were masterpieces of Alexandrian art. To have all
this destroyed was a terrible thought, but even more unbearable was that
of its object--to receive the body of the Queen.

Again rapturous admiration of this greatest and noblest of women led
Gorgias to enthusiastic rhapsodies, until Dion exercised his office of
soberer, and Barine asked tidings of her mother, her grandparents, and
her sister. There was nothing but good news to be told. True, the
architect had to wage a daily battle with the old philosopher, who termed
it an abuse of hospitality to remain so long at his friend's with his
whole family; but thus far Gorgias had won the victory, even against
Berenike, who wished to take her father and his household to her own
home.

Cleopatra had purchased the house and garden of Didymus at thrice their
value, the architect added. He was now a wealthy man, and had
commissioned him to build a new mansion. The land facing the sea and near
the museum had been found, but the handsome residence would not be
completed until summer. The dry Egyptian air would have permitted him to
roof it sooner, but there were many of Helena's wishes--most of them very
sensible ones--to be executed.

Barine and Dion glanced significantly at each other; but the architect,
perceiving it, exclaimed: "Your mute language is intelligible enough, and
I confess that for five months Helena has seemed to me the most
attractive of maidens. I see, too, that she has some regard for me. But
as soon as I stand before her--the Queen, I mean--and hear her voice, it
seems as if a tempest swept away every thought of Helena, and it is not
in my nature to deceive any one. How can I woo a girl whom I so deeply
honour--your sister, Barine--when the image of another rules my soul?"

Dion reminded him of his own words that the Queen was loved only as a
goddess and, without waiting for his reply, turned the conversation to
other topics.

It was three hours after midnight when Pyrrhus warned Gorgias that it was
time for departure. When the fisherman's fleetest boat was at last
bearing him back to the city he wondered whether girls who, before
marriage, lived like Helena in undisturbed seclusion, would really be
better wives and more content with every lot than the much-courted
Barine, whom Dion had led from the gayest whirl of life in the capital to
the most desolate solitude.