Archibius's thoughts lingered with his beloved Queen, and his vivid power
of imagination conjured before his mind everything which could distress
her. No possible chance, not even the most terrible, was forgotten, and
when he saw her sinking in the ship, stretching her beautiful arms
imploringly towards him, to whom she had so long turned in every perilous
position, when he beheld her a captive in the presence of the hostile,
cold-hearted Octavianus, the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. At
last he dropped his felt mantle and, groaning aloud, struck his brow with
his clenched hand. He had fancied her walking with gold chains on her
slender wrists before the victor's four-horse chariot, and heard the
exulting shouts of the Roman populace.

That would have been the most terrible of all. To pursue this train of
thought was beyond the endurance of the faithful friend, and Dion turned
in surprise as he heard him sob and saw the tears which bedewed his face.

His own heart was heavy enough, but he knew his companion's warm devotion
to the Queen; so, passing his arm around his shoulder, he entreated him
to maintain that peace of soul and mind which he had so often admired.
In the most critical situations he had seen him stand high above them, as
yonder man who fed the flames on the summit of the Pharos stood above the
wild surges of the sea. If he would reflect over what had happened as
dispassionately as usual, he could not fail to see that Antony must be
free and in a position to guide his own future, since he directed the
palace in the Choma to be put in order. He did not understand about the
wall, but perhaps he was bringing home some distinguished captive whom he
wished to debar from all communication with the city. It might prove
that everything was far better than they feared, and they would yet smile
at these grievous anxieties. His heart, too, was heavy, for he wished