From the fore-part of the ship there came upon the silence a solemn music; the old monks were chanting in unison their evening prayer....
But over the still water came faint and clear notes of another melody. It was the little shepherd, piping his nocturnal hymn to Pan, the old god of gaiety, of freedom and love.
Anatolius felt a thrill of wonder and surmise.
"Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven," the monks chanted.
The silvery notes of the shepherd's flute, floating high in the sky, mingled with the words of the Christians.
The last beams faded from that happy islet, leaving it dull and hueless in the midst of the sea. Both hymns ceased.
The wind blew sharply in the rigging and whipped up grey and white waves. The straining galley-timbers creaked and groaned. Shadows approached from the southward and the sea grew swiftly dark. Huge clouds massed overhead, and from beyond the horizon came the first long intermittent roll of thunder.
Night and Tempest, hand in hand, were striding on apace.
THE END