The first light of day appeared, and she saw no one. The light became stronger and larger, and she saw, as it were, a large bird in the distance, advancing rapidly towards her over the sea. She knew that Thoth would soon be beside her.
Nearer and nearer he came, and she pictured to herself his face aflame with eagerness and love.
Suddenly, about fifty paces from the shore, without warning, the car fell, like a wounded bird, into the sea. Daphne waited in breathless expectation, and in a few moments Thoth rose to the surface, and, swimming with great difficulty, made his way to the shore.
She ran down to meet him, and when he reached the land, she observed that he was pallid with suffering.
The water at the place was deep, and the rocks rough and cruel. She bent down and assisted him to land, and as he felt her touch, a look of pleasure crossed his suffering face.
“Art thou hurt?” she said.
“My bodily hurt,” he said, “is nothing, but I fear to tell thee the whole of my evil fortune. My city, with all its people and wealth and power, is buried in the sands of the desert—not a trace is left. There, in the depth of the sea, lies the last remnant of our skill. I stand before thee a nameless, powerless man. Yet if thou wilt only love me, I regret nothing,” and he looked with longing into her eyes.
“Tell me but one thing,” she said; “assure me that thou thyself didst not bring hither the pestilence that destroyed my race.”
His face darkened, and he said—