but the architect opened it and helped his friend out of the
litter, which before proceeding farther he placed in a room filled with
various articles discovered during his investigation of the subterranean
temple chambers.

Hitherto not a word had been spoken. Now Gorgias called to Barine: "This
passage is low--you must stoop. Cover your head, and don't be afraid if
you meet bats. They have long been undisturbed. We might have taken you
from the temple to the sea, and waited there, but it would probably have
attracted attention and been dangerous. Courage, young wife of Dion! The
corridor is long, and walking through it is difficult; but compared with
the road to the mines, it is as smooth and easy as the Street of the
King. If you think of your destination, the bats will seem like the
swallows which announce the approach of spring."

Barine nodded gratefully to him; but she kissed the hand of Dion, who
was moving forward painfully, leaning on the arm of his friend. The
light of the torch carried by Gorgias's faithful foreman, who led the
way, had fallen on her blackened arm, and when the little party advanced
she kept behind the others. She thought it might be unpleasant for
her lover to see her thus disfigured, and spared him, though she would
gladly have remained nearer. As soon as the passage grew lower, the
wounded man's friends took him in their arms, and their task was a hard
one, for they were not only obliged to move onward bending low under
the heavy burden, but also to beat off the bats which, frightened by the
foreman's torch, flew up in hosts.

Barine's hair was covered, it is true, but at any other time the hideous
creatures, which often brushed against her head and arms, would have
filled her with horror and loathing. Now she scarcely heeded them; her
eyes were fixed on the recumbent figure in the bearers' arms, the man
to whom she belonged, body and soul, and whose patient suffering pierced
her inmost heart. His head rested on the breast of Gorgias, who walked
directly in front of her; the architect's stooping posture concealed his
face, but his feet were visible and, whenever they twitched, she fancied
he was in pain. Then she longed to press forward to his side, wipe the
perspiration from his brow in the hot, low corridor, and whisper words
of love and encouragement.

This she was sometimes permitted to do when the friends put down their
heavy burden. True, they allowed themselves only brief interv