words! Helena's silent grief and her joy at our
escape will lighten your heart."

And so it proved. True, Gorgias lived over again in his dreams the
frightful spectacle witnessed the day before; but when the sun of the
2d day of August rose in full radiance over Alexandria and, early in
the morning, boat after boat reached the Serpent Island, landing first
Berenike and her nephews, the sons of the honoured philosopher Arius,
then clients, officials, and friends of Dion, and former favourite
guests of Barine, to greet the young pair and escort them from the
refuge which had so long sheltered them back to the city and their
midst, new and pleasant impressions robbed the gloomy picture of a large
portion of its terrors.

"Tall Phryxus" had rapidly spread the news of the place where Dion and
Barine had vanished, and that they had long been happily wedded. Many
deemed it well worth a short voyage to see the actors in so strange an
adventure and be the first to greet them. Besides, those who knew Barine
and her husband were curious to learn how two persons accustomed to the
life of a great capital had endured for months such complete solitude.
Many feared or expected to see them emaciated and careworn, haggard or
sunk in melancholy, and hence there were a number of astonished faces
among those whose boats the freedman Pyrrhus guided as pilot through the
shallows which protected his island.

The return of this rare couple to their home would have afforded an
excellent opportunity for gay festivities. Sincerely as the majority
of the populace mourned the fate of the Queen, and gravely as the
more thoughtful feared for Alexandria's freedom under Roman rule,
all rejoiced over the lenient treatment of the city. Their lives and
property were safe, and the celebration of festivals had become a life
habit with all classes. But the news of the death of Didymus's wife and
the illness of the old man, who could not bear up under the loss of his
faithful companion, gave Dion a right to refuse any gay welcome at his
home.

Barine's sorrow was his also, and Didymus died a few days after his
wife, with whom he had lived in the bonds of love for more than half a
century--people said, "of a broken heart."

So Dion and his young wife entered his beautiful palace with no noisy
festivities. Instead of the jubilant hymenaeus, the voice of his own
child greeted him on the threshold.

The mourning garments in which Barine welcomed him in the