quence to the young girl were the changes which it was rumoured he
intended to introduce into the government of the country, concerning
which her father had expressed such bitter dissatisfaction before he set
out on his last trip to Pontus?

A very different matter occupied her thoughts, and as, pressing her hand
upon her heart, she gazed at the little city, gleaming with crimson hues
in the reflection of the setting sun, a strange, restless stir pervaded
the former stillness of Nature. Pelicans and flamingoes, geese and ducks,
storks and herons, ibises and cranes, bitterns and lapwings, flew in dark
flocks of manifold forms from all directions. Countless multitudes of
waterfowl darkened the air as they alighted upon the uninhabited islands,
and with ear-splitting croaking and cackling, whistling and chirping,
clapping and twittering, dropped into the sedges and bushes which
concealed their nests, while in the city the doors of the houses opened,
and men, women, and children, after toiling at the loom and in the
workshop, came out to enjoy the coolness of the evening in the open air.

One fishing boat after another was already throwing a rope to the shore,
as the ship with the gay sails approached the little roadstead.

How large and magnificent it was!

None of the king's officials had ever used such a galley, not even the
epistrategus of the Delta, who last year had given the banking and the
oil trade to new lessees. Besides, the two transports that had followed
the magnificent vessel appeared to belong to it.

Ledscha had watched the ships indifferently enough, but suddenly her
gaze--and with it the austere beauty of her face--assumed a different
expression.

Her large black eyes dilated, and with passionate intentness she looked
from the gaily ornamented galley to the shore, which several men in Greek
costume were approaching.

The first two had come from the large white house whose door, since
sunset, had been the principal object of her attention.

It was Hermon, the taller one, for whom she was waiting with old Tabus.
He had promised to take her from the Owl's Nest, after nightfall, for a
lonely row upon the water.

Now he was not coming alone, but with his fellow-artist, the sculptor
Myrtilus, the nomarch and the notary--she recognised both
distinctly--Gorgias, the rich owner of the second largest weaving
establishment in Tennis, and several slaves.

What did it mean?

A sudden flush crimsoned her f