A barge, judiciously darkened, emerged into the circle of faint radiance about Senci's boat. There were probably a dozen Theban nobles of various ages grouped in attitudes of hushed expectancy in the bow. One robust peer, with a boat-hook in his hand, leaned over the prow. Another, barely older than fourteen, had mounted the side of the boat, and steadying himself by the shoulder of a young lord, gazed ahead at the group in the bow of Senci's boat.
"By the horns of Isis," he whispered in disgust, "the most of them are babes!"
The robust noble turned his head and jeered good-naturedly under his breath.
"Mark the infant sneering at the buds. But be of cheer. One is there, ripe enough to sate your green appetite."
"Nay! do you distribute them now? Let me make my choice, then."
But a general chorus of whispered protests arose.
"Hold, not so fast. The fan-bearer first. 'Twas he who hit upon the plan."
The nose of the pursuing boat crept alongside the stern of the one pursued, and the oars rested in obedience to a whispered order. The diagonal current which moved out from the Arabian shore, and the backward wash of water from the oars of the forward boat, heaved the head of the nobles' barge toward its object. The robust courtier leaned forward and made fast to his captive with the hook. A sigh of approval and excitement ran through the group.
"Gods! how they will scatter!" the young lord tittered nervously.
"Nay, now, there must be no such thing," the robust noble said, addressing them all. "Mind you, we but come as guests. It shall be left to the ladies to say how we shall abide with them. Show me a light."