That is my honest opinion, Gorgias, and I say it to you also, Helena." With these words she nodded to both, and Gorgias was again alone with the maiden whom he loved.
It was difficult to begin the conversation anew, and when, spite of many efforts, it would not flow freely, the shout of the overseer, which reached his ear through the opening of the roof, urging the men to work, was like a deliverance.

Promising to return again soon, as eagerly as if he had been requested to do so, he took his leave and opened the door leading into the adjoining room.

But on the threshold he started back, and Helena, who had followed him, did the same, for there stood his friend Dion, and Barine's beautiful head lay on his breast, while his hand rested as if in benediction on her fair hair.

And--no, Gorgias was not mistaken-the slender frame of the lovely woman, whose exuberant vivacity had so often borne him and others away with it, trembled as if shaken by deep and painful emotion.
When Dion perceived his friend, and Barine raised her head, turning her face towards him, it was indeed wet with tears, but their source could not be sorrow; for her blue eyes were sparkling with a happy light.
Yet Gorgias found something in her features which he was unable to express in words--the reflection of the ardent gratitude that had taken possession of her soul and filled it absolutely.

While seeking the architect, Dion had met Barine, who was on her way to her grandparents, and what he had dreaded the day before happened.