“Did Serapis pass over you, my son?”
“Yes, holy father.”
“What did he make you see, in your dreams?”
“The woman whom I love....”
The prophet had laid his long, thin, transparent hand on the dreamer’s head:
“But who did not love you,” he said, gently and quietly.
“How do you know, holy father?... I saw the pirates who kidnapped her....”
“But by whom she was not kidnapped....”
“How do you know, holy father?”
“And by whom she was not sold as a slave.”