He rose, stepped toward the silent figure.
Suddenly he stopped.
The ferryman neither shrank from his approach, nor responded. His face was hidden by the hood he wore. Yet his eyes shone from beneath that hood.
The look from those eyes froze Dionysius in midstep.
"No! No! It is a bedtime story to frighten children. What are you telling me . . . ."
His gaze shifted from stream to boat, from boat to ferryman, from ferryman to stream.
"It is a fairy tale, nothing else. Take me to the shore!" His voice was once more threatening.
Suddenly he sat down, held his head between his two hands, sobbed quietly.
"It's true, isn't it? This river - Styx is its name. You are the ferryman. This gloom is not the dark of night. It's all true!"
Suddenly a thought came to mind.