"I too," said Uncle Catullus. "It was a nightmare, most unpleasant! I had dined too heavily. My stomach was overloaded. And I am now shivering with this chilly dew. Egypt is most interesting, but Egypt will positively be the death of me!"
"My gracious lord," said Caleb, "your Sabæan amulets have no doubt inspired you with a favourable dream. You must have your dream expounded. But not by the hierogrammats.... Look, the dreamers are crowding in front of them. There is no reaching them. You must have your dream expounded by a most holy prophet, by Amphris, the centenarian.... Come with me, let me lead you to him...." He took Lucius by the hand. "It costs half a talent, no less," said Caleb. "Thirty minæ, my lord. But then Amphris will expound your dreams for you, Amphris, the holy Amphris. The hierogrammats charge ten or twenty drachmæ. But they can never tell it as the holy Amphris, the prophet does. This is where he sits enthroned, my lord."
They were standing in front of a small pyramid, on one of the upper terraces. Two sphinxes beside the narrow door lay like mysterious stone sentinels. Temple-keepers guarded the gate.
"Why not a talent right away?" grumbled Caleb.
Caleb took the gold coins from the long purse at his girdle and slipped them into the priest's hand:
"Enter, my lord," he said, pointing to the open door.
Lucius entered. Seated on a throne was an old man who looked like a god of age and wisdom. Lucius himself was as beautiful as a young god. A strange light, as of soft moons, shone from blue globes. Lucius bowed to the ground, fell upon his knees and kissed the floor. He remained in this position.
"What did he make you see, in your dreams?"
The prophet had laid his long, thin, transparent hand on the dreamer's head:
"But who did not love you," he said, gently and quietly.
"How do you know, holy father?... I saw the pirates who kidnapped her...."
"And by whom she was not sold as a slave."
"What did Serapis make you see in the dream?"
"I do not know, father.... I saw her and ... those who kidnapped her."
"No, they resembled one another like brothers, like doubles."
"They were one," repeated the prophet. "My son, your soul is sick. It is sick with sorrow and love. Love is strong, but wisdom is stronger. Gather wisdom, my son. My child, I can see into your soul. I see it lying tortured and trembling."