“Because they were one.”
“One pirate?”
“One pirate.”
“Where is Ilia, father?”
“My son, even my wisdom does not tell me that whereof you have not dreamed. You dreamed of many pirates, who resembled one another like doubles. There was one pirate, my child.”
“Who was he?”
“Did Serapis conjure up his image before you?”
“I no longer see it.”
“Then go in peace. And let love and wisdom comfort you.”
Lucius went. On the threshold of the pyramid he met an hetaira. She glittered like an idol in her ceremonial garb, sewn with jewels, and looked at him with painted eyes.