This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
By Georg Ebers
Hermon, filled with longing, went down toward evening to the shore.
The sun was setting, and the riot of colours in the western horizonseemed like a mockery of the torturing anxiety which had mastered hissoul.
He did not notice the boat that was approaching the land; many travellerswho intended to go through Arabia Petrea landed here, and for severaldays—he knew why—there had been more stir in these quiet waters.
Suddenly he was surprised by the ringing shout with which he had formerlyannounced his approach to Myrtilus.
Unconsciously agitated by joy, as if the sunset glow before him hadsuddenly been transformed into the dawn of a happy day, he answered by aloud cry glad with hope. Although his dim eyes did not yet permit him todistinguish who was standing erect in the boat, waving greetings to him,he thought he knew whom this exquisite evening was bringing.
Soon his own name reached him. It was his "wise Bias" who shouted, andsoon, with a throbbing heart, he held out both hands to him.
The freedman had performed his commission in the best possible manner,and was now no longer bound to silence by oath.
Ledscha had left him and Myrtilus to themselves and, as Bias thought hehad heard, had sailed with the Gaul Lutarius for Paraetonium, thefrontier city between the kingdom of Egypt and that of Cyrene.
Myrtilus felt stronger than he had done for a long time, and had sent himback to the blind friend who would need him more than he did.
But worthy Bias also brought messages from Archias and Daphne. They werewell, and his uncle now had scarcely any cause to fear pursuers.
Before the landing of the boat, the shade had covered Hermon's eyes; butwhen, after the freedman's first timid question about his sight, heraised it again, at the same time reporting and showing what progress hehad already made toward recovery, the excess of joy overpowered thefreedman, and sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping, he kissed theconvalescent's hands and simple robe. It was some time before he calmedhimself again, then laying his forefinger on the side of his nose, hesaid: "Therein the immortals differ from human beings. We sculptors canonly create good work with good tools, but the immortals often use thevery poorest of all to accomplish the best things. You owe your sight tothe hate of this old witch and mother of pirates, so may she find peacein the grave. She is dead. I heard it from a fellow-countryman whom Imet in Herocipolis. Her end came soon after our visit."
Then Bias related what he knew of Hermon's uncle, of Daphne, and
Myrtilus.
Two letters were to give him further particulars.
They came from the woman he loved and from his friend, and as soon asBias had lighted the lamp in the tent, at the same time telling hismaster in advance many items of news they contained, he set about thedifficult task of reading.
He had certainly scarcely become a master of this art on board the Hydra,yet his slow performance did all honour to the patience of his teacherMyrtilus.
He began with Daphne's letter, but by the desire of prudent Archias itcommunicated few fa