He first carefully spread his mantle over the stone and then wrapped her
in it as tenderly as a mother might cover her shivering child, for a
cooler breeze gave warning of the coming dawn. He himself crept close
under the wall by her side, so as not to be seen, for a long train of
people, with servants carrying lanterns before them, now came out of the
house they had just left and down the street. Who these could be who
walked at so late an hour in such solemn silence neither of them knew.
They certainly sent up no joyful shout of "Iakchos!" no wild lament; no
cheerful laughter nor sounds of mourning were to be heard from the long
procession which passed along the street, two and two, at a slow pace.
As soon as they had passed the last houses, men and women alike began to
sing; no leader started them, nor lyre accompanied them, and yet their
song went up as though with one voice.

Diodoros and Melissa knew every note sung by the Greeks or Egyptians of
Alexandria, at this or any other festival, but this melody was strange to
them; and when the young man whispered to the girl, "What is it that they
are singing?" she replied, as though startled from sleep, "They are no
mere mortals!"

Diodoros shuddered; he fancied that the procession was floating above the
earth; that, if they had been indeed men of flesh and blood, their steps
would have been more distinctly audible on the pavement. Some of them
appeared to him to be taller than common mortals, and their chant was
certainly that of another world than this where he dwelt. Perhaps these
were daimons, the souls of departed Egyptians, who, after a midnight
visit to those they had left behind them, were returning to the rock
tombs, of which there were many in the stony hills to which this street
led. They were walking toward these tombs, and not toward the gate; and