“Do, grandfather,” she pleaded, “and come soon: for I verily believe that the priest Seti knows more of the healing art than all the rest of Alexandria—the daughters of my people not excepted.”
As she glided toward the door her eye rested for a moment with a startled look on Aleph. He had till now been unobserved. The tall form of Seti had been interposed. She hesitated a moment, as if to make sure that the young man was not some one whom she ought to recognize, and then hastened away.
Ah, those great, lovely eyes! It was but a second that their inquiring look rested on him; but they at once made him forget every other feature. He had not failed to notice her faultless figure, the queenly carriage of her head, the easy grace and even majesty of her every movement; and when she turned to greet Seti he had had full view of an exquisite face, hesitating between girlhood and womanhood—a face wonderfully luminous with a certain spiritual and lofty loveliness—but the moment her eyes shot their fires into his, all previous impressions vanished, and he saw nothing but eyes, eyes. In talking over the events of the day with Cimon at the khan in the evening, he could not, for the life of him, remember distinctly whether she was tall or short, dark or brown-haired, light-complexioned or otherwise—he could only remember the glorious eyes. But the young man was in Alexandria for a purpose, and a great one: and what had he to do with a maiden’s haunting eyes? Just nothing at all. So he turned his own eyes to the business in hand: and the effulgent twin stars that had just risen above his horizon, contrary to the order of Nature, silently sank back again and disappeared—almost.
He rose to take leave. But Alexander said, Wait a little, and touched a string. A servant appeared, to whom he gave some directions in a low voice. When he had dismissed the man, he said that he had just sent to notify those in waiting that no more business would be done to-day. He added that he usually closed business earlier on the sixth day of the week out of regard to the sacred seventh, and that so he had some leisure for conversation; if the young man would resume his seat.
“Speaking of our Sabbath,” continued he; “reminds me that I ought to invite you to our place of worship for to-morrow: for I learn that you are not a worshipper of Belus?”
“Hardly,” said Aleph with a smile.
“Nor a fire-worshipper?”
“By no means.”
“Nor a worshipper of the sun, moon and stars?”
“I was not so taught,” emphatically.