rows of lamps on the quay stretched like tendrils of light from the
dazzlingly illuminated marble Temple of Poseidon to the palace at
Lochias, steeped in radiance.

When Pyrrhus or one of his sons returned from market they described the
festivals and shows, banquets, races, and endless pleasure excursions
arranged by the court, which made the citizens fairly hold their breath.
It was a prosperous time for the fishermen; the Queen's cooks took all
their wares and paid a liberal price.

January had come, when another letter arrived from Charmian. Dion and
Barine had watched in vain for any unusual events on Cleopatra's birth
day, but on Antony's, a few days later, there was plenty of music and
shouting, and in the evening an unusually magnificent illumination.

Two days after, this letter was delivered to Pyrrhus by his dusky friend
Anukis.

Her inquiry whether he thought it prudent to convey visitors to his
guests was answered in the negative, for since Octavianus had been in
Asia, the harbour swarmed with the boats of spies, and a single act of
imprudence might bring ruin.

Charmian's letter, too, was even better calculated to curb Dion's
increasing desire to return home than the fisherman's warning.

True, the beginning contained good news of Barine's relatives, and
then informed Dion that his uncle, the Keeper of the Seal, was fairly
revelling in bliss. His inventive gifts were taxed more than ever. Every
day brought a festival, every night magnificent banquets. One spectacle,
excursion, or hunting party followed another. In the theatres, the
Odeum, the Hippodrome, no more brilliant performances, races, naval
battles, gladiatorial struggles, and combats between beasts had been
given, even before Actium. Dion himself had formerly attended the
entertainments of those who belonged to the court circle, the society of
"Inimitable Livers." It had been revived again, but Antony called them
the "Comrades of Death." This was significant. Every one knows that
the end is drawing near, and imitates the Pharaoh to whom the oracle
promised six years of life, and who convicted it of falsehood and made
them twelve by carousing during the night also.

The Queen's meeting with her husband, which she had previously reported,
had been magnificent. "At that time," she wrote, "we hoped that a more
noble life would begin, and Mark Antony, awakened and elevated by
his rekindled love, would regain his former heroic power; but we were