“Hasten!” cried Daphne; “descend to the rescue!”
“It is impossible,” he said. “All will be drowned before we can reach them; and besides this, the car can sustain no more.”
Daphne looked with horror at the composure of this man, and began to suspect treachery. “Didst thou expect this catastrophe?” she said, trembling.
“Nay,” said he; “nothing was further from my thoughts. I can ill spare my men, and my scheme has broken down at the outset. It will be troublesome to replace the maidens.”
The coldness of his manner seemed to Daphne unnatural and inhuman. “At least,” she said, “make an effort to save their lives.”
“It is useless,” he replied calmly; “but as thou wilt.”
They descended, but long before they reached the spot, the sea had swallowed up every trace except a few remnants of floating wreckage.
“There is no time to lose,” said Thoth. “We must go direct to my city. The strength of my bird will just suffice to reach it.”
Daphne sank down helpless and dismayed.
Thoth applied to her lips a small phial, and she was powerless to resist. Again she tasted the strange flavour of the nepenthe, and again care and sorrow were dispelled from her mind. She heard Thoth say, as if to himself—