Little as it pleased him, he did her bidding.  But as they went on he felt that she hung heavy on his arm and could only lift her little feet with the greatest difficulty.  The street was too dark for him to see how pale she was; and yet he never took his eyes off her dear but scarcely distinguishable features.  Suddenly he heard a faint whisper as in a dream, “I can go no farther,” and at once led her back to the marble seat.

He first carefully spread his mantle over the stone and then wrapped her in it as tenderly as a mother might cover her shivering child, for a cooler breeze gave warning of the coming dawn.  He himself crept close under the wall by her side, so as not to be seen, for a long train of people, with servants carrying lanterns before them, now came out of the house they had just left and down the street.  Who these could be who walked at so late an hour in such solemn silence neither of them knew.  They certainly sent up no joyful shout of “Iakchos!” no wild lament; no cheerful laughter nor sounds of mourning were to be heard from the long procession which passed along the street, two and two, at a slow pace.  As soon as they had passed the last houses, men and women alike began to sing; no leader started them, nor lyre accompanied them, and yet their song went up as though with one voice.

Diodoros and Melissa knew every note sung by the Greeks or Egyptians of Alexandria, at this or any other festival, but this melody was strange to them; and when the young man whispered to the girl, “What is it that they are singing?” she replied, as though startled from sleep, “They are no mere mortals!”

Diodoros shuddered; he fancied that the procession was floating above the earth; that, if they had been indeed men of flesh and blood, their steps would have been more distinctly audible on the pavement.  Some of them appeared to him to be taller than common mortals, and their chant was certainly that of another world than this where he dwelt.  Perhaps these were daimons, the souls of departed Egyptians, who, after a midnight visit to those they had left behind them, were returning to the rock tombs, of which there were many in the stony hills to which this street led.  They were walking toward these tombs, and not toward the gate; and Diodoros whispered his suspicion to his companion, clasping his hand on an amulet in the semblance of an eye, which his Egyptian nurse had fastened round his neck long ago with an Anubic thread, to protect him against the evil-eye and magic spells.

But Melissa was listening with such devout attention to the chant that she did not hear him.  The fatigue which had reached such a painful climax had, during this peaceful rest, given way to a blissful unconsciousness of self.  It was a kind of happiness to feel no longer the burden of exhaustion, and the song of the wanderers was like a cradle-song, lulling her to sweet dreams.  It filled her with gladness, and yet it