“I am at home here. Let me thank you and pay you. May holy Isis protect you!”
“May holy Isis cure you, sir!” said the hierodules.
He gave them a gold coin apiece. They disappeared in the night, like shades. But under the palm-trees was another shade. It was Cora.
“I am not well,” said Lucius. “I came back.”
“Do you wish to go to bed, my lord?” asked Cora.
“No, I should not be able to sleep,” replied Lucius. “This night is strange and unreal. I will lie here under the trees.”
“I will leave you, my lord.”
“No, stay,” he said. “I am ill and I feel lonely. Stay.”
“Suffer me to fetch you a cloak and a pillow, my lord.”
“I thank you.”