This word aroused the mirth of old Philippus, who praised all the good
qualities of Macedonian wives except that of obedience, while Thyone
protested that during her more than forty years of married life her
husband had become so much accustomed to her complete submission than he
no longer noticed it. If Philippus should command her to-morrow to leave
their comfortable palace in Pelusium to accompany him to Alexandria,
where they possessed no home of their own, he would see how willingly she
obeyed him.

While speaking, her bright, clear eyes, which seemed to float in the deep
hollows sunk by age, sparkled so merrily in her wrinkled face that
Philippus shook his finger gaily at her and showed plainly how much
pleasure the jest of the old companion of his wanderings gave him.

Yet he insisted upon his purpose of not entering Alexandria again until
he had resigned his office, and to do this at present was impossible,
since he was bound just now, as if with chains, to the important frontier
fortress. Besides, there had probably been little change in the capital
since the death of his beloved old companion in arms and master, the late
King.

This assertion evoked a storm of contradiction, and even the younger
officers, who usually imposed severe restraint upon themselves in the
general's presence, raised their voices to prove that they, too, had
looked around the flourishing capital with open eyes.

Yet it was not six decades since Philippus, then a lad of seventeen, had
been present at its foundation.

His father, who had commanded as hipparch a division of cavalry in the
army of Alexander the Great, had sent for the sturdy youth just at that
time to come to Egypt, that he might enter the army. The conqueror of the
world had himself assigned him, as a young Macedonian of good family, to
the corps of the Hetairoi; and how the vigorous old man's eyes sparkled
as, with youthful enthusiasm, he spoke of the divine vanquisher of the
world who had at that time condescended to address him, gazed at him
keenly yet encouragingly with his all-discerning but kindly blue eyes,
and extended his hand to him!

"That," he cried, "made this rough right hand precious to me. Often when,
in Asia, in scorching India, and later here also, wounded or exhausted,
it was ready to refuse its service, a spirit voice within cried, 'Do not
forget that he touched it'; and then, as if I had drunk the noble wine of
Byblus, a fiery stream flowed f