Only the oars continued to beat the waves. For the rest, silence, silence, silence ... over all the ship, under the starry dome....

Then the boatswain’s voice made itself heard. The rowers’ melodious phrase rose in a mournful swell, always the same. And the high voice of the sailor who led the singing set the time. The seamen took up the chant. And bright, golden beads from the four-stringed harp fell like clear drops through the night; and the Greek hymn of the songstress pined away with love and tenderness, to ring out suddenly, imploringly:

“Aphrodite!... Aphrodite!...”

Chapter II

Lucius lay on his cushions sobbing like a child. Beside him sat old Thrasyllus, with his hand on his master’s heaving shoulder:

“Lucius, pray control yourself,” he said. “Master yourself and yield piously to Fate. Ilia is gone, she is gone. She is probably gone for ever. She has disappeared. Pirates must have kidnapped her while she was bathing.... Do not think of her any more. Life is rich in promise. Fortune has favoured you not only with untold treasures, but also with genius and soul. You love beauty and study, every art and every science. You did well to follow my advice at last and not to go on languishing with grief in the villa at Baiæ. Yes, it is sold. We shall never go back there. The villa is sold to Cæsar. For almost nothing. Tiberius can look upon it as a gift! What does it matter? Forget the villa and ... forget Ilia.... We are now sailing towards Egypt, the birthplace of all wisdom, the cradle of humanity. You did well to follow my advice: you needed distraction, my dear young master; and this distraction will bring healing to your sick soul. To-morrow we shall reach Alexandria. The voyage is auspicious and will probably be completed without storms. Try to sleep now; and, once again, thank you for your kind word. You are generous. I had nothing to forgive, but I am grateful that you love me better than you would a simple slave. Good-night. Good-night, Lucius.”

The tutor left the pavilion:

“Draw the curtains close, Tarrar,” he said to the Libyan boy. “Noiselessly.”

“Yes, Thrasyllus,” said the child.