The old man stared at him. "It is my business, my lord," he answered; "a poor trade, it is true, but it was my father's before me, and his father's too, and so on for I don't know how many generations. I don't know why I have stuck to it, for the pay is poor, but so I have. It is our way, I suppose, in Egypt."
"The pay is poor, you say," said the Greek; "but it would be better if you didn't go this voyage, and had the pay all the same."
"My lord is laughing at his servant," said the captain, staring again with eyes more wide open than ever.
"Not at all; the fact is that I have no more wish to see these places than you have."
The captain went on staring. "Then why—?" he began.
"My friends settled the matter for me; but I would sooner stay where I am."
"I understand," said the captain, closing one eye entirely, and diminishing the other to its natural size. "I understand. You have a friend, a young friend, I daresay, and you don't think that this is a good time for a long voyage."
Cleanor saw that the captain had his own ideas of what was keeping him in Alexandria, and did not care to disabuse him. After all, he reflected, he was not quite wrong. He nodded.
"You are right, my lord. These cities and temples and tombs up the river are very fine, but they will be just as fine ten, twenty, thirty years hence. You can't say that of youth. It passes, my lord, it passes, and you must enjoy it while you can. But what am I to say? I have been paid to take you up to Philæ, and, if you wish it, as far as the Second Cataract. I signed the agreement before a notary. He knows all about it; other people know it. What am I to say when they find me loitering about here and your lordship not to be seen? You will hardly believe it, but there are positively people so wicked that they will say I murdered you to get the money without making the journey."
Cleanor did believe that there were such people, and thought to himself that the captain did not look altogether like a man to whom such things were impossible.