‘Ha!’ he cried, placing his hands before his eyes, as to shut out the grisly vision, ‘do I dream still?—­Am I with the dead?’

’Mighty Hermes—­no!  Thou art with one death-like, but not dead.  Recognize thy friend and slave.’

There was a long silence.  Slowly the shudders that passed over the limbs of the Egyptian chased each other away, faintlier and faintlier dying till he was himself again.

‘It was a dream, then,’ said he.  ’Well—­let me dream no more, or the day cannot compensate for the pangs of night.  Woman, how camest thou here, and wherefore?’

‘I came to warn thee,’ answered the sepulchral voice of the saga.

‘Warn me!  The dream lied not, then?  Of what peril?’

’Listen to me.  Some evil hangs over this fated city.  Fly while it be time.  Thou knowest that I hold my home on that mountain beneath which old tradition saith there yet burn the fires of the river of Phlegethon; and in my cavern is a vast abyss, and in that abyss I have of late marked a red and dull stream creep slowly, slowly on; and heard many and mighty sounds hissing and roaring through the gloom.  But last night, as I looked thereon, behold the stream was no longer dull, but intensely and fiercely luminous; and while I gazed, the beast that liveth with me, and was cowering by my side, uttered a shrill howl, and fell down and died, and the slaver and froth were round his lips.  I crept back to my lair; but I distinctly heard, all the night, the rock shake and tremble; and, though the air was heavy and still, there were the hissing of pent winds, and the grinding as of wheels, beneath the ground.  So, when I rose this morning at the very birth of dawn, I looked again down the abyss, and I saw vast fragments of stone borne black and floatingly over the lurid stream; and the stream itself was broader, fiercer, redder than the night before.  Then I went forth, and ascended to the summit of the rock:  and in that summit there appeared a sudden and vast hollow, which I had never perceived before, from which curled a dim, faint smoke; and the vapor was deathly, and I gasped, and sickened, and nearly died.  I returned home.  I took my gold and my drugs, and left the habitation of many years; for I remembered the dark Etruscan prophecy which saith, “When the mountain opens, the city shall fall—­when the smoke crowns the Hill of the Parched Fields, there shall be woe and weeping in the hearths of the Children of the Sea.”  Dread master, ere I leave these walls for some more distant dwelling, I come to thee.  As thou livest, know I in my heart that the earthquake that sixteen years ago shook this city to its solid base, was but the forerunner of more deadly doom.  The walls of Pompeii are built above the fields of the Dead, and the rivers of the sleepless Hell.  Be warned and fly!’