inquired what Charmian had accomplished with the Queen and Archibius,
and what new events had happened to affect Cleopatra, the state, and the
city; but she questioned her with far deeper interest concerning the
welfare of her lover, desiring information in regard to many things of
which her friend could give no tidings. In her brief visit to Dion's
couch she had not learned how he bore his own misfortunes and Barine's,
what view he took of the future, or what he expected from the woman he
loved.

Charmian's ignorance and silence in regard to these very matters
increased the anxiety of the endangered woman, who saw not only her own
life, but those dearest to her, seriously threatened. So she entreated
her hostess to relieve her from the uncertainty which was harder to
endure than the most terrible reality; but the latter either could not or
would not give her any further details of Cleopatra's intentions, or the
fate and present abode of her grandparents and Helena. This increased
her anxiety, for if Alexas's information was correct, her family must be
homeless. When Charmian at last admitted that she had seen Dion only a
few minutes, the tortured Barine's power of quiet endurance gave way.

She, whose nature was so hopeful that, when the glow of the sunset faded,
she already anticipated with delight the rosy dawn of the next day, now
beheld in Cleopatra's hand the reed which was to sign the death-sentence
of Dion and herself. Her mental vision conjured up her relatives wounded
by the falling house or bleeding under the stones hurled by the raging
populace. She heard Alexas command the executioner to subject her to the
rack, and fancied that Anukis had not returned because she had failed to
find Dion. The Queen's soldiers had probably carried him to prison,
loaded with chains, if Philostratus had not already instigated the mob to
drag him through the streets.