But the column of sand disintegrated before a hovel, and became a snaky woman-shape that disappeared into the dark door of the house.
Within, she stumbled over prostrate bodies, sleeping on the earthen floor, and, muttering in Hindu against the darkness, stopped finally.
"Master!" she called softly, in her native tongue.
There was instant reply.
"Thou, Vasti! The Lord God be praised! What news?"
The woman felt her way to the voice, and, encountering the alabarch's outstretched hands, began at once, in a whisper:
"I have come, but not to abide," she said. "The Nazarenes took Lydia, and fled with her unto Judea!"
"Unto Judea! Away from me?" the alabarch said piteously.
"Nay, but Egypt hath risen against her. The Roman hath put forth all his soldiery to look for her. If she remained in Alexandria she would surely die!"
The alabarch moaned. The last of his fortitude had gone with Lydia, and helpless, disgraced and old, he was beginning to surrender. The bayadere put her hands on him.