hour before he had felt and admitted to Dion that he considered Barine
the most desirable of women, and now another's image cast a deep shadow
over hers and filled his heart with new, perhaps stronger emotions.

He had had similar experiences only too often, and his friends, Dion at
their head, had perceived his weakness and spoiled many an hour for him
by their biting jests. The series of tall and short, fair and dark
beauties who had fired his fancy was indeed of considerable length, and
every one on whom he had bestowed his quickly kindled affections had
seemed to him the one woman he must make his own, if he would be a happy
man. But ere he had reached the point of offering his hand, the question
had arisen in his mind whether he might not love another still more
ardently. So he had begun to persuade himself that his heart yearned for
no individual, but the whole sex--at least the portion which was young
and could feel love--and therefore he would scarcely be wise to bind
himself to any one. True, he knew that he was capable of fidelity, for
he clung to his friends with changeless loyalty, and was ready to make
any sacrifice in their behalf. With women, however, he dealt
differently. Was Helena's image, which now floated before him so
bewitchingly, destined to fade as swiftly? The contrary would have been
remarkable. Yet he firmly believed that this time Eros meant honestly by
him. The laughing loves who twined their rose garlands around him and
Helena's predecessors had nothing to do with this grave maiden.

These reflections darted through his brain with the speed of lightning,
and still stirred his heart when he was ushered into the impluvium, where
the magistrates were impatiently awaiting the owner of the house. With
the lucidity peculiar to him, he explained his reasons for hoping that
their errand would be vain, and Apollonius replied that no one would
rejoice more than he himself if the Regent should authorize him, on the