“My son,” said old Thrasyllus, sitting beside his couch, “do you intend always to cherish your illness and longing, like a serpent that devours you, bone and flesh? The sibyl of Rhacotis merely guessed your own thoughts. The holy Amphris could explain nothing more than that many, who resemble one another, mean only one in the dream. After that, what could your credulity imagine that a crafty hetaira would make you guess in her embrace? The name of that one man? The name of the pirate? The place where he is hiding Ilia?... One pirate?... Who could have stolen her?”

“I don’t know,” said Lucius, wearily.

“My poor, sick boy,” said the tutor, “no one knows and no one will ever know. She has disappeared. If she has not been kidnapped by pirates, she is drowned. Did you not visit the slave-markets in Rome on purpose to find her? Have you not done the same thing here, in Alexandria? She is not to be found. Forget her, my son. Try to get better. If no other woman can cure you, let some other power than love cure you. Amphris mentioned wisdom. There is wisdom. Seek it here, in the land of wisdom. This city, my son, is a sinful city, though it is fair to look upon. This city is as Tamyris herself: it is a wanton among cities. There is no more wisdom in this city, notwithstanding the Museum, notwithstanding the Serapeum, notwithstanding the dreams of Canopus, which die away in orgies. In this city I have met none save merchants, usurers and venal women. This magnificent city is a venal city. Even the philosophers here are avaricious and venal. Even the prophets demand a talent for their divinations. The power of money holds sway here and no longer wisdom. Let us go farther. There is wisdom left in Egypt. And in the wisdom which we shall find you will be cured. Listen, my son: there is the sacred word of the Kabbala, which Moses himself received from the godhead on Mount Sinai. That word has never been graven on tables of stone, but Moses whispered it to his sons and those sons to theirs. It is the key to happiness. He who utters it has the power to avoid suffering and to know all that can be known on earth. I have sought for it, in the Museum, in the Serapeum, here and at Canopus. While you lay sorrowing on your couch, my son, I have held converse with priests and with philosophers, with prophets. I am persuaded that I shall not find the word in Alexandria.”

“But where will you find it, Thrasyllus?”

The tutor stared before him:

“Perhaps farther on,” he said. “Perhaps at Memphis. Let us go to Memphis. If I do not find the word at Memphis, I shall look for it farther still. Let us sail up the Nile, to Thebes, to Ethiopia. Let us go to the pillars of Sesostris. Something tells me that we shall find it ... and that you will be cured, my son. But let us go.”

Lucius approved and the departure was decided. Thereupon Master Ghizla and Caleb had a long talk on “business,” after which Caleb asked for an interview with Lucius, which was granted and at which Uncle Catullus and Thrasyllus were present.

“Noble lords,” Caleb began, “I should like to speak to you in your own interest. The question, noble lords, is this: I understand from the most learned Master Thrasyllus that there is a plan on foot to leave Alexandria and to travel over Memphis to Ethiopia, as far as the pillars of Sesostris. That will certainly be a fine journey; and all great lords take that road. But permit me, your servant, to give you a piece of advice, in your own interest, noble lords, in your own interest. My advice is this: hire from me and my brother Ghizla a comfortable and spacious Nile barge, a thalamegus, not only to ascend the Nile in, but also to live in, so far as possible, because—spoken without slander, noble lords, spoken without slander!—the diversoria which you will find at Hermopolis, at Leontopolis, ay, even at Memphis and Thebes are ... bad, are all bad, not to be compared with our far-famed Hermes House, O my honoured benefactors! No, they are unclean hovels, standing on the edges of marshes, without any modern conveniences; and, though you have your own cook, you would not even find any unpolluted wells there, not to speak of wine, and would never have a good meal again, O my Lord Catullus! Therefore, O my patrons, hire our Nile thalamegus, in which you can live with a small following, with a few slaves; leave the other slaves here, with the greater part of your splendid equipment; and allow me—if you have been satisfied, O my Lord Lucius, with my conduct at Alexandria and Canopus—to be your guide, at the head of your own escort, and to remove all difficulties from your path. I know the whole of Egypt! I have already conducted numbers of noble lords, ay, to the sources of the Nile, to those most mysterious sources! We will take tents with us and hire camels, when necessary, but take my advice ... and never alight at any other Egyptian diversoria, except our Hermes House, for they are all bad, bad, bad ... indescribably bad, O my noble lords!”

“Caleb,” said Lucius, “I was just about to propose to you what you are proposing to me, that you should be our guide to the pillars of Sesostris and hire me a barge to sail up the Nile.”

“O my lords!” cried Caleb, overjoyed and obviously relieved. “How glad I am of that! For now I am convinced that you will be comfortable and travel pleasantly and that you, O my Lord Catullus, will dine as you have been wont to do here ... especially as we shall not forget to take our own wines on board, the purple Mareotis wine, thick as ink, and the topaz-yellow liqueur of Napata.”

“But is the last really necessary, Caleb?” asked Uncle Catullus, mischievously. “After all, we are going to Ethiopia!”

“And on the way, my lord? Before we reach Ethiopia? And above all let me also explain that the Ethiopian liqueurs ... must first descend the Nile, to acquire the perfume and the rich flavour which they do not possess in Ethiopia itself.”

“If only they don’t lose that perfume, Caleb, when they ascend the Nile again!” said Uncle Catullus, jestingly.

“I shall see to that, my lord,” said Caleb, who saw through Uncle Catullus quite as plainly as Uncle Catullus saw through Caleb. “I’ll see to that. You just leave it to me.”

“We are leaving everything to you, Caleb. Get the barge ready for to-morrow,” said Lucius.

“Then we shall go up the Nile next day, my lord,” said Caleb, happy and delighted.

And he retired with salaam upon salaam.

And Master Ghizla, in the palm-garden, pretending to be busy with the little canal, but in reality full of eagerness to know the result of Caleb’s advice, whispered:

“I say!... Brother!...”

“Yes?”

“Well, Caleb, well?” asked Ghizla, anxiously and looking a little pale.

“They’re hiring the thalamegus ... they’re alighting at no other diversorium ... they’re sleeping in our tents, they’ll travel with our camels and....”

“Well, Caleb, and what else?” asked Ghizla, rubbing his hands.

“They’re drinking our wines ... all the way to Napata!”

“Where you’ll pretend to lay in a fresh stock of liqueurs?”

“You leave that to me, Brother Ghizla, you just leave it to me!”

“May the gods bless you, Brother Caleb; may Thoth, Hermes and Serapis bless you! Quick, let us look in the cellars if we have enough in store!”

There came a sudden shower, as though poured from an urn in the sky by an invisible water-god; and the two brothers, with their garments girdled up, rushed bare-legged through the puddles of their palm-garden to their wine-cellars, which lay warm as stone cupolas in the sun, or else were kept cool with double walls filled with snow.