Suddenly one of them, a young man in advance of two, old enough to be his parents, stopped and pointed with an outstretched arm.
Marsyas glanced in the direction the youth indicated.
The lower slopes of the immense western sky over the placid sea were delicate with the pale shades of a clear, cold, spring sunset. The point where the sun had sunk, alone glowed with a sparkling, golden brilliance. And set against that, far out in the bay, was a frail dark mast, crossed by a faint yard—a fragile crucifix sunk in a glory!
The elder man did not speak; the younger looked at the thing he had discovered, but as Marsyas hurried in agitation by the woman, he heard her speak softly:
"But it is bright—beyond!"
CHAPTER XIV
FOB A WOMAN'S SAKE
The sails of the freighter had fallen slack in the breathless shelter of the Alexandrian harbor. It was night, and only by daylight could the seamen pull the vessel by oar through the devious, perilous lanes between the fleets and navies packed in the greatest port in the world. The freighter would lie to until morning. The passengers would land in boats.
Its anchor rumbled down and plunged into a sea of stars.