nd Shubra. They had looked on ancient
cities of temples and king's mausoleums, where men thousands of years
dead lay as if lost in thought, with eyes wide open, ready at any moment
to rise and call out: Slave, is the bath ready? There in the middle of
a cornfield rises an obelisk. You ask what it is--it is all that is left
of a royal city. There, too, a hundred thousand years ago maybe, young
couples have sat together, drinking to each other in wine, revelling in
all the delights of love--and where are they now? Aye, where are they,
can you tell me?

"When that journey was over, Merle, I began to think that it was not
mere slime of the Nile that fertilised the fields; it was the mouldered
bodies of the dead. I rode over dust that had been human fingers, lips
that had clung in kisses. Millions and millions of men and women have
lived on those river-banks, and what has become of them now? Geology.
And I thought of the millions of prayers wailed out there to the sun and
stars, to stone idols in the temples, to crocodiles and snakes and the
river itself, the sacred river. And the air, Merle--the air received
them, and vibrated for a second--and that was all. And even so our
prayers go up, to this very day. We press our warm lips to a cold stone,
and think to leave an impression. Skaal!"

But Merle did not touch her glass; she sat still, with her eyes on the
yellow lampshade. She had not yet given up all her dreams of going forth
and conquering the world with her music--and he sat there rolling out
eternity itself before her, while he and she herself, her parents, all,
all became as chaff blown before the wind and vanished.

"What, won't you drink with me? Well, well--then I must pledge you by
myself. Skaal!"

And being well started on his travellers' tales he went on with them,
but now in a more cheerful vein, so that she found it possible to smile.
He told of the great lake-swamps, with their legions of birds, ibis,
pelicans, swans, flamingos, herons, and storks--a world of long beaks
and curved breasts and stilt-like legs and shrieking and beating of
wings. Most wonderful of all it was to stand and watch and be left
behind when the birds of passage flew northward in their thousands in
the spring. My love to Norway, he would say, as they passed. And in the
autumn to see them return, grey goose, starling, wagtail, and all the
rest. "How goes it now at home?" he would think--and "Next time I'll go
with you," he would pro