Ne the destiny of his mother, his native

while old Chloris and the fisherman's wife aided her by their experience. Every one, down to
the greybeard whose name the little one bore, declared that there had never been a lovelier young mother than Barine or a handsomer child than the infant Pyrrhus; but Dion could no longer endure
to remain on the cliff. A thousand things which he had hitherto deemed insignificant and allowed to pass unheeded now seemed important and imperatively in need of his personal attention. He was a
father, and any negligence might be harmful to his son. With his bronzed complexion and long hair and beard he required little aid to disguise

him from his friends. In the garments shabby by long use, and with his delicate hands calloused by work in the dock-yard, any one would have
taken him for a real fisherman. Perhaps it was foolish, but the desire to show himself in the character of a father to Barine's mother and
grandparents and to Gorgias seemed worth risking a slight danger; so, without informing Barine,

who was now able to walk about her room, he set out for the city after
sunset on the last day of July. He knew that Octavianus was encamped in the Hippodrome east of Alexandria. The white mounds

which had risen there had been recognized as tents, even from the Serpent Island. Pyrrhus had returned in the afternoon with tidings that Antony's mounted troops
had defeated those of Octavianus. This time the news of victory could be
trusted, for the palace at Lochias was illuminated for a festival and when
Dion landed there was a great bustle on the quay. One shoute