Besides, he hoped to obtain wise counsel from the architect, to whom he
owed his speedy recovery, and whose grave, kindly manner inspired him
with confidence; and, moreover, he was so greatly indebted to Didymus
that duty required him to make a frank confession--yet he dared not
acknowledge one of the principal motives of his foolish act.

The plot into which he had been led was directed against Barine, whom he
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 the
young beauty was betrothed to Dion. This had wounded him deeply; for in
many a quiet hour it had seemed possible to win her for himself and lead
her as his wife to his home in Amphissa. He was very little younger than
she, and if his parents once saw her, they could not fail to approve his
choice. And the people in Amphissa! They would have gazed at Barine as
if she were a goddess.

And now this fine gentleman had come to crush his fairest hopes. No word
of love had ever been exchanged between him and Barine, but how kindly
she had always looked at him, how willingly she had accepted trivial
services! Now she was lost. At first this had merely saddened him, but
after he had drunk the wine, and Antyllus, Antony's son, in the presence
of the revellers, over whom Caesarion presided as "symposiarch"--
[Director of a banquet.]--had accused Barine of capturing hearts 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 loved
him and merely preferred Dion on account of his wealth. In any case, he
felt justified in cherishing resentment against Barine, and with the
number of goblets which he drained his jealous rage increased.