CHAPTER IX.
Gorgias went to his work without delay. When the twin statues were onlywaiting to be erected in front of the Theatre of Dionysus, Dion soughthim. Some impulse urged him to talk to his old friend before leavingthe city with his betrothed bride. Since they parted the latter hadaccomplished the impossible; for the building of the wall on the Choma,ordered by Antony, was commenced, the restoration of the little palaceat the point, and many other things connected with the decoration ofthe triumphal arches, were arranged. His able and alert foreman foundit difficult to follow him as he dictated order after order in hiswriting-tablet.
The conversation with his friend was not a long one, for Dion hadpromised Barine and her mother to accompany them to the country.Notwithstanding the betrothal, they were to start that very day;for Caesarion had called upon Barine twice that morning. She had notreceived him, but the unfortunate youth's conduct induced her to hastenthe preparations for her departure.
To avoid attracting attention, they were to use Archibius's largetravelling chariot and Nile boat, although Dion's were no lesscomfortable.
The marriage was to take place in the "abode of peace." The youngAlexandrian's own ship, which was to convey the newly wedded pair toAlexandria, bore the name of Peitho, the goddess of persuasion, forDion liked to be reminded of his oratorical powers in the council.Henceforward it would be called the Barine, and was to receive many anembellishment.
Dion confided to his friend what he had learned in relation to the fateof the Queen and the fleet, and, notwithstanding the urgency of theclaims upon Gorgias's time, he lingered to discuss the future destiny ofthe city and her threatened liberty; for these things lay nearest to hisheart.
"Fortunately," cried Dion, "I followed my inclination; now it seems tome that duty commands every true man to make his own house a nurseryfor the cultivation of the sentiments which he inherited from hisforefathers and which must not die, so long as there are Macedoniancitizens in Alexandria. We must submit if the superior might of Romerenders Egypt a province of the republic, but we can preserve to ourcity and her council the lion's share of their freedom. Whatever may bethe development of affairs, we are and shall remain the source whenceRome draws the largest share of the knowledge which enriches her brain."
"And the art which adorns her rude life," replied Gorgias. "If she isfree to crush us without pity, she will fare, I think, like the maidenwho raises her foot to trample on a beautiful, rare flower, and thenwithdraws it because it would be a crime to destroy so exquisite a workof the Creator."
"And what does the flower owe to your maiden," cried Dion, "or our cityto Rome? Let us meet her claims with dignified resolution, then I thinkwe shall not have the worst evils to fear."
"Let us hope so. But, my friend, keep your eyes open for other thanRoman foes. Now that it will become known that you do not love her,beware of Iras. There is something about her which reminds me of thejackal. Jealousy!--I believe she would be capable of the worst--"
"Yet," Dion interrupted, "Charmian will soften whatever injury Irasplans to do me, and, though I cannot rely much upon my uncle, Archibiusis above both and favours us and our marriage."
Gorgias uttered a sigh of relief, and exclaimed, "Then on to happiness!"
"And you must also begin to provide for yours," replied Dion warmly."Forbid your heart to continue this wandering, nomad life. The tentwhich the wind blows down is not fit for the architect's permanentresidence. Build yourself a fine house, which will defy storms, as youbuilt my palace. I shall not grudge it, and have already said, the timesdemand it."
"I will remember the advice," replied Gorgias. "But six eyes are againbent upon me for direction. There are so many important things to bedone while we waste the hours in building triumphal arches for thedefeated--trophies for an overthrow. But your uncle has just issuedorders to complete the work in the most magnificent style. The waysof destiny and the great are dark; may the brightest sunshine illumineyours! A prosperous journey! We shall hear, of course, when youcelebrate the wedding, and if I can I shall join you in the Hymenaeus.Lucky fellow that you are! Now I'm summoned from over yonder! May Castorand Pollux, and all the gods favourable to travel, Aphrodite, and allthe Loves attend your trip to Irenia, and protect you in the realm ofEros and Hymen!"
With these words the warm-hearted man clasped his friend to his breastfor the first time. Dion cordially responded, and at last shook his hardright hand with the exclamation:
"Farewell, then, till we meet in Irenia on the wedding day, you dear,faithful fellow."
Then he entered the chariot which stood waiting, and Gorgias gazed afterhim thoughtfully. The hyacinthine purple cloak which Dion wore thatday had not vanished from his sight when a loud crashing, rattling,and roaring arose behind him. A hastily erected scaffold, which was tosupport the pulleys for raising the statues, had collapsed. The damagecould be easily repaired, but the accident aroused a troubled feelingin the architect's mind. He was a child of his time, a period when dutycommanded the prudent man to heed omens. Experience also taught him thatwhen such a thing happened in his work something unpleasant was apt tooccur within the circle of his friends. The veil of the future concealedwhat might be in store for the beloved couple; but he resolved to keephis eyes open on Dion's behalf and to request Archibius to do the same.
The pressure of work, however, soon silenced the sense of uneasiness.The damage was speedily repaired, and later Gorgias, sometimes with one,sometimes with another tablet or roll of MS. in his hand, issued themost varied orders.
Gradually the light of this dismal day faded. Ere the night, whichthreatened to bring rain and storm, closed in, he again rode on hismule to the Bruchium to overlook the progress of the work in the variousbuildings and give additional directions, for the labour was to becontinued during the night.
The north wind was now blowing so violently from the sea that it wasdifficult to keep the torches and lamps lighted. The gale drove thedrops of rain into his face, and a glance northward showed him masses ofblack clouds beyond the harbour and the lighthouse. This indicated a badnight, and again the boding sense of coming misfortune stole over him.Yet he set to work swiftly and prudently, helping with his own handswhen occasion required.
Night closed in. Not a star was visible in the sky, and the air, chilledby the north wind, grew so cold that Gorgias at last permitted his bodyslave to wrap his cloak around him. While drawing the hood over hishead, he gazed at a procession of litters and men moving towardsLochias.
Perhaps the Queen's children were returning home from some expedition.But probably they were rather private citizens on their way to somefestival celebrating the victory; for every one now believed in a greatbattle and a successful issue of the war. This was proved by the shoutsand cheers of the people, who, spite of the storm, were still moving toand fro near the harbour.
The last of the torch-bearers had just passed Gorgias, and he had toldhimself that a train of litters belonging to the royal family would notmove through the darkness so faintly lighted, when a single man, bearingin his hand a lantern, whose flickering rays shone on his wrinkledface, approached rapidly from the opposite direction. It was old Phryx,Didymus's house slave, with whom the architect had become acquainted,while the aged scholar was composing the inscription for the Odeum whichGorgias had erected. The aged servant had brought him many alterationsof his master's first sketch, and Gorgias had reminded him of it theprevious day.
The workmen by whom the statues had been raised to the pedestal, amidthe bright glare of torches, to the accompaniment of a regular chant,had just dropped the ropes, windlasses, and levers, when the architectrecognized the slave.
What did the old man want at so late an hour on this dark night? Thefall of the scaffold again returned to his mind.
Was the slave seeking for a member of the family? Did Helena needassistance? He stopped the gray-haired man, who answered his questionwith a heavy sigh, followed by the maxim, "Misfortunes come in pairs,like oxen." Then he continued: "Ye
sterday there was great anxiety.Today, when there was so much rejoicing on account of Barine, I thoughtdirectly, 'Sorrow follows joy, and the second misfortune won't be sparedus.' And so it proved."
Gorgias anxiously begged him to relate what had happened, and theold man, drawing nearer, whispered that the pupil and assistant ofDidymus--young Philotas of Amphissa, a student, and, moreover, acourteous young man of excellent family--had gone to a banquet to whichAntyllus, the son of Antony, had invited several of his classmates. Thishad already happened several times, and he, Phryx, had warned him, for,when the lowly associate with the lofty, the lowly rarely escape kicksand blows. The young fellow, who usually had behaved no worse than theother Ephebi, had always returned from such festivities with a flushedface and unsteady steps, but to-night he had not even reached his roomin the upper story. He had darted into the house as though pursued bythe watch, and, while trying to rush up the stairs--it was really onlya ladder-he had made a misstep and fell. He, Phryx, did not believe thathe was hurt, for none of his limbs ached, even when they were pulled andstretched, and Dionysus kindly protected drunkards; but some demon musthave taken possession of him, for he howled and groaned continually,and would answer no questions. True, he was aware, from the festivalsof Dionysus, that the young man was one of those who, when intoxicated,weep and lament; but this time something unusual must have occurred,for in the first place his handsome face was coloured black and lookedhideous, since his tears had washed away the soot in many places, andthen he talked nothing but a confused jargon. It was a pity.
When an attempt was made, with the help of the garden slave, to carryhim to his room, he dealt blows and kicks like a lunatic. Didymus nowalso believed that he was possessed by demons, as often happens to thosewho, in falling, strike their heads against the ground, and thus wakethe demons in the earth. Well, yes, they might be demons, but only thoseof wine. The student was just "crazy drunk," as people say. But the oldgentleman was very fond of his pupil, and had ordered him, Pliryx, togo to Olympus, who, ever since he could remember, had been the familyphysician.
"The Queen's leech?" asked Gorgias, disapprovingly, and when the slaveassented, the architect exclaimed in a positive tone: "It is not rightto force the old man out of doors in such a north wind. Age is notspecially considerate to age. Now that the statues stand yonder, I canleave my post for half an hour and will go with you. I don't think aleech is needed to drive out these demons."
"True, my lord, true!" cried the slave, "but Olympus is our friend. Hevisits few patients, but he will come to our house in any weather. Hehas litters, chariots, and splendid mules. The Queen gives him whateveris best and most comfortable. He is skilful, and perhaps can renderspeedy help. People must use what they have."
"Only where it is necessary," replied the architect. "There are my twomules; follow me on the second. If I don't drive out the demons, youwill have plenty of time to trot after Olympus."
This proposal pleased the old slave, and a short time after Gorgiasentered the venerable philosopher's tablinum.
Helena welcomed him like an intimate friend. Whenever he appeared shethought the peril was half over. Didymus, too, greeted him warmly, andconducted him to the little room where the youth possessed by demons layon a divan.
He was still groaning and whimpering. Tears were streaming down hischeeks, and, whenever any member of the household approached, he pushedhim away.
When Gorgias held his hands and sternly ordered him to confess whatwrong he had done, he sobbed out that he was the most ungrateful wretchon earth. His baseness would ruin his kind parents, himself, and all hisfriends.
Then he accused himself of having caused the destruction of Didymus'sgranddaughter. He would not have gone to Antyllus again had not hisrecent generosity bound him to him, but now he must atone-ay, atone.Then, as if completely crushed, he continued to mumble the word,"atone!" and for a time nothing more could be won from him.
Didymus, however, had the key to the last sentence. A few weeks before,Philotas and several other pupils of the rhetorician whose lectures inthe museum he attended had been invited to breakfast with Antyllus. Whenthe young student loudly admired the beautiful gold and silver beakersin which the wine was served, the reckless host cried: "They are yours;take them with you." When the guests departed the cup-bearer askedPhilotas, who had been far from taking the gift seriously, to receivehis property. Antyllus had intended to bestow the goblets; but headvised the youth to let him pay their value in money, for among themwere several ancient pieces of most artistic workmanship, which Antony,the extravagant young fellow's father, might perhaps be unwilling tolose.
Thereupon several rolls of gold solidi were paid to the astonishedstudent--and they had been of little real benefit, since they had madeit possible for him to keep pace with his wealthy and aristocraticclassmates and share many of their extravagances. Yet he had not ceasedto fulfil his duty to Didymus.
Though he sometimes turned night into day, he gave no serious cause forreproof. Small youthful errors were willingly pardoned; for he was agood-looking, merry young fellow, who knew how to make himself agreeableto the entire household, even to the women.
What had befallen the poor youth that day? Didymus was filled withcompassion for him, and, though he gladly welcomed Gorgias, he gave himto understand that the leech's absence vexed him.
But, during a long bachelor career in Alexandria, a city ever graciousto the gifts of Bacchus, Gorgias had become familiar with attacks likethose of Philotas and their treatment, and after several jars of waterhad been brought and he had been left alone a short time with thesufferer, the philosopher secretly rejoiced that he had not summoned thegrey-haired leech into the stormy night for Gorgias led forth his pupilwith dripping hair, it is true, but in a state of rapid convalescence.
The youth's handsome face was freed from soot, but his eyes were bentin confusion on the ground, and he sometimes pressed his hand upon hisaching brow. It needed all the old philosopher's skill in persuasionto induce him to speak, and Philotas, before he began, begged Helena toleave the room.
He intended to adhere strictly to the truth, though he feared that thereckless deed into which he had suffered himself to be drawn might havea fatal effect upon his future life.
Besides, he hoped to obtain wise counsel from the architect, to whom heowed his speedy recovery, and whose grave, kindly manner inspired himwith confidence; and, moreover, he was so greatly indebted to Didymusthat duty required him to make a frank confession--yet he dared notacknowledge one of the principal motives of his foolish act.
The plot into which he had been led was directed against Barine, whomhe had long imagined he loved with all the fervour of his twenty years.But, just before he went to the fatal banquet, he had heard that theyoung beauty was betrothed to Dion. This had wounded him deeply; for inmany a quiet hour it had seemed possible to win her for himself and leadher as his wife to his home in Amphissa. He was very little younger thanshe, and if his parents once saw her, they could not fail to approve hischoice. And the people in Amphissa! They would have gazed at Barine asif she were a goddess.
And now this fine gentleman had come to crush his fairest hopes. No wordof love had ever been exchanged between him and Barine, but how kindlyshe had always looked at him, how willingly she had accepted trivialservices! Now she was lost. At first this had merely saddened him, butafter he had drunk the wine, and Antyllus, Antony's son, in thepresence of the revellers, over whom Caesarion presided as"symposiarch"--[Director of a banquet.]--had accused Barine of capturinghearts by magic spells, he had arrived at the conviction that he, too,had been shamefully allured and betrayed.
He had served for a toy, he said to himself, unless she had really lovedhim and merely preferred Dion on account of his wealth. In any case,he felt justified in cherishing resentment against Barine, and with thenumber of goblets which he drained his jealous rage increased.
When urged to join in the escapade which now burdened his consciencehe consented with a burning brain in
order to punish her for the wrongwhich, in his heated imagination, she had done him.
All this he withheld from the older men and merely briefly describedthe splendid banquet which Caesarion, pallid and listless as ever, haddirected, and Antyllus especially had enlivened with the most recklessmirth.
The "King of kings" and Antony's son had escaped from their tutorson the pretext of a hunting excursion, and the chief huntsman had notgrudged them the pleasure--only they were obliged to promise him thatthey would be ready to set out for the desert early the next morning.
When, after the banquet, the mixing-vessels were brought out and thebeakers were filled more rapidly, Antyllus whispered several times toCaesarion and then turned the conversation upon Barine, the fairestof the fair, destined by the immortals for the greatest and highest ofmankind. This was the "King of kings," Caesarion, and he also claimedthe favour of the gods for himself. But everybody knew that Aphroditedeemed herself greater than the highest of kings, and therefore Barineventured to close her doors upon their august symposiarch in a mannerwhich could not fail to be unendurable, not only to him but to all theyouth of Alexandria. Whoever boasted of being one of the Ephebi mightwell clench his fist with indignation, when he heard that the insolentbeauty kept young men at a distance because she considered only theolder ones worthy of her notice. This must not be! The Ephebi ofAlexandria must make her feel the power of youth. This was the moreurgently demanded, because Caesarion would thereby be led to the goal ofhis wishes.
Barine was going into the country that very evening. Insulted Eroshimself was smoothing their way. He commanded them to attack thearrogant fair one's carriage and lead her to him who sought her in thename of youth, in order to show her that the hearts of the Ephebi, whomshe disdainfully rejected, glowed more ardently than those of the oldermen on whom she bestowed her favours.
Here Gorgias interrupted the speaker with a loud cry of indignation, butold Didymus's eyes seemed to be fairly starting from their sockets as hehoarsely shouted an impatient:
"Go on!"
And Philotas, now completely sobered, described with increasinganimation the wonderful change that had taken place in the quietCaesarion, as if some magic spell had been at work; for scarcely hadthe revellers greeted Antyllus's words with shouts of joy, declaringthemselves ready to avenge insulted youth upon Barine, than the "Kingof kings" suddenly sprang from the cushions on which he had listlesslyreclined, and with flashing eyes shouted that whoever called himself hisfriend must aid him in the attack.
Here he was urged to still greater haste by another impatient "Go on!"from his master, and hurriedly continued his story, describing how theyhad blackened their faces and armed themselves with Antyllus's swordsand lances. As the sun was setting they went in a covered boat throughthe Agathodamon Canal to Lake Mareotis. Everything must have beenarranged in advance; for they landed precisely at the right hour.
As, during the trip, they had kept up their courage by swallowing themost fiery wine, Philotas had staggered on shore with difficulty andthen been dragged forward by the others. After this he knewnothing more, except that he had rushed with the rest upon a largeharmamaxa,--[A closed Asiatic travelling-carriage with four wheels]--andin so doing fell. When he rose from the earth all was over.
As if in a dream he saw Scythians and other guardians of the peace seizeAntyllus, while Caesarion was struggling on the ground with another man.If he was not mistaken it was Dion, Barine's betrothed husband.
These communications were interrupted by many exclamations of impatienceand wrath; but now Didymus, fairly frantic with alarm, cried:
"And the child--Barine?"
But when Philotas's sole reply to this question was a silent shake ofthe head, indignation conquered the old philosopher, and clutchinghis pupil's chiton with both hands, he shook him violently, exclaimingfuriously:
"You don't know, scoundrel? Instead of defending her who should be dearto you as a child of this household, you joined the rascally scorners ofmorality and law as the accomplice of this waylayer in purple!"
Here the architect soothed the enraged old man with expostulations,and the assertion that everything must now yield to the necessity ofsearching for Barine and Dion. He did not know which way to turn, in theamount of labour pressing upon him, but he would have a hasty talk withthe foreman and then try to find his friend.
"And I," cried the old man, "must go at once to the unfortunatechild.-My cloak, Phryx, my sandals!"
In spite of Gorgias's counsel to remember his age and the inclementweather, he cried angrily:
"I am going, I say! If the tempest hurls me to the earth, and the boltsof Zeus strike me, so be it. One misfortune more or less matters littlein a life which has been a chain of heavy blows of Fate. I buried threesons in the prime of manhood, and two have been slain in battle. Barine,the joy of my heart, I myself, fool that I was, bound to the scoundrelwho blasted her joyous existence; and now that I believed she wouldbe protected from trouble and misconstruction by the side of a worthyhusband, these infamous rascals, whose birth protects them fromvengeance, have wounded, perhaps killed her betrothed lover. Theytrample in the dust her fair name and my white hair!--Phryx, my hat andstaff."
The storm had long been raging around the house, which stood close bythe sea, and the sailcloth awning which was stretched over the impluviumnoisily rattled the metal rings that confined it. Now so violent a gustswept from room to room that two of the flames in the three-branchedlamp went out. The door of the house had been opened, and drenchedwith rain, a hood drawn over his black head, Barine's Nubian doorkeepercrossed the threshold.
He presented a pitiable spectacle and at first could find no answer tothe greetings and questions of the men, who had been joined by Helena,her grandmother leaning on her arm; his rapid walk against the fury ofthe storm had fairly taken away his breath.
He had little, however, to tell. Barine merely sent a message to herrelatives that, no matter what tales rumour might bring, she and hermother were unhurt. Dion had received a wound in the shoulder, but itwas not serious. Her grandparents need have no anxiety; the attack hadcompletely failed.
Doris, who was deaf, had listened vainly, holding her hand to her ear,to catch this report; and Didymus now told his granddaughter as much ashe deemed it advisable for her to know, that she might communicate it toher grandmother, who understood the movements of her lips.
The old man was rejoiced to learn that his granddaughter had escaped sogreat a peril uninjured, yet he was still burdened by sore anxiety. Thearchitect, too, feared the worst, but by dint of assuring him that hewould return at once with full details when he had ascertained the fateof Dion and his betrothed bride, he finally persuaded the old man togive up the night walk through the tempest.
Philotas, with tears in his eyes, begged them to accept his servicesas messenger or for any other purpose; but Didymus ordered him to goto bed. An opportunity would be found to enable him to atone for theoffence so recklessly committed.
The scholar's peaceful home was deprived of its nocturnal repose, andwhen Gorgias had gone and Didymus had refused Helena's request to havethe aged porter take her to her sister, the old man remained alone withhis wife in the tablinum.
She had been told nothing except that thieves had attacked hergranddaughter, Barine, and slightly wounded her lover; but her own heartand the manner of the husband, at whose side she had grown grey, showedthat many things were being concealed. She longed to know the story morefully, but it was difficult for Didymus to talk a long time in a loudtone, so she silenced her desire to learn the whole truth. But, in orderto await the architect's report, they did not go to rest.
Didymus had sunk into an armchair, and Doris sat near at her spindle,but without drawing any threads from her distaff. When she heard herhusband sigh and saw him bury his face in his hands, she limped nearerto him, difficult as it was for her to move, and stroked his head, nownearly bald, with her hand. Then she uttered soothing words, and, as theanxious, troubled expression did not
yet pass from his wrinkled face,she reminded him in faltering yet tender tones how often they hadthought they must despair, and yet everything had resulted well.
"Ah! husband," she added, "I know full well that the clouds hanging overus are very black, and I cannot even see them clearly, because you showthem at such a distance. Yet I feel that they threaten us with soretribulation. But, after all, what harm can they do us, if we only keepclose together, we two old people and the children of the children whomHades rent from us? We need only to grow old to perceive that life has ahead with many faces. The ugly one of to-day can last no longer than youcan keep that deeply furrowed brow. But you need not coerce yourself formy sake, husband. Let it be so. I need merely close my eyes to see howsmooth and beautiful it was in youth, and how pleasant it will look whenbetter days say, 'Here we are!'"
Didymus, with a mournful smile, kissed her grey hair and shouted intoher left ear, which was a little less deaf than the other:
"How young you are still, wife!"