The before eagerly-read papyrus dropped from Heraklas' hand. He grew
weak and faint. The woman looked at him pityingly.

A wild impulse seized Heraklas. He rushed from the house to the
street. His brother, his Timokles, back again! Back from the desert!
Back in his city-home of Alexandria! And not to be allowed to draw
one free breath, to come back to the house, to see Cocce, to see
him, Heraklas! What could be done! What could be done! To be taken
to Rome to meet the lions!

Heraklas ran toward the northern gate. He bethought himself of
caution, and tried to go with his usual step. He passed through the
Gate of the Sun, and by discreet inquiries discovered which ship the
Christians were on. Then he hid himself near one of the docks, and
watched the ship.

Two days! One of the days partly gone already! Timokles would go
away never to return, surely, this time.

"I also am a Christian!" cried Heraklas aloud.

Only the swaying of the water against the dock answered him. He
sprang up and walked out on the dyke that stretched toward the isle
of Pharos. Opposite him, the ship showed still more plainly than
from the docks. Heraklas made out the prayer inscribed on the
vessel: "Do thou, O Isis, preserve in safety this ship over the blue
waves"

"O Timokles! Timokles!" cried Heraklas, as he stretched his hands
toward the ship.