"Go in peace, Asarhadon, and beg the gods to return thee thy reason,"
answered the traveler, with the same unchanging calmness.

The host sprang up, panting from anger.

"The reptile!" thought he. "He has not come for a debt simply. He is
doing some business here. My heart tells me that he is a rich merchant,
or maybe an innkeeper who, in company with priests and judges, will
open another inn somewhere near this one. May the first fire of heaven
burn thee! May the leprosy devour thee! Miser, deceiver, criminal from
whom an honest man can make nothing."

The worthy Asarhadon had not succeeded yet in calming himself when the
sounds of a flute and a drum were heard on the street, and after a
while four dancers, almost naked, rushed into the courtyard. The
carriers and sailors greeted them with shouts of delight, and even
important merchants in the galleries looked at them with curiosity and
made remarks on their beauty. The dancers with motions of the hands and
with smiles greeted all the company. One began to play on a double
flute, another accompanied with a drum, and the two others danced
around the court in such fashion that there was hardly a guest whom
their muslin shawls did not strike as they whirled.

Those who were drinking began to sing, shout, and call to the dancers,
while among the common herd a quarrel sprang up which the inspectors
settled with canes. A certain Libyan, angered at sight of the canes,
drew a knife, but two black men seized his arms, took from him some
bronze rings as pay for food, and hurled him out to the street.
Meanwhile one of the dancers remained with the sailors, two went among
the merchants who offered them wine and cakes, and the oldest passed
among the tables to make a collection.

"By the sanctuary of the divine Isis!" cried she, "pious strangers,
give offerings to the goddess who guards all creation. The more you
give the more happiness and blessing will come to you. For the
sanctuary of Mother Isis!"

They threw onto her drum coils of copper wire, sometimes a grain of
gold. One merchant asked if it were permitted to visit her, to which
she nodded with a smile.

When she entered the front gallery, Phut of Harran reached for his
leather bag and took out a gold ring, saying,

"Is tar is a great and good goddess; take this for her sanctuary."

The priestess looked quickly at him and whispered,

"Anael, Sachiel."

"Amabiel, Abalidot," answered the traveler, in the same low