re thee well."

And another said: "In my house there sleeps a new bride, and I cannot
leave her nor take her with me on this strange journey. This quest is
not for me. But may thy steps be prospered wherever thou goest. So,
farewell."

And another said: "I am ill and unfit for hardship, but there is a man
among my servants whom I will send with thee when thou goest, to bring
me word how thou farest."

So, one by one, they left the house of Artaban. But Abgarus, the oldest
and the one who loved him the best, lingered after the others had gone,
and said, gravely: "My son, it may be that the light of truth is in this
sign that has appeared in the skies, and then it will surely lead to the
Prince and the mighty brightness. Or it may be that it is only a shadow
of the light, as Tigranes has said, and then he who follows it will have
a long pilgrimage and a fruitless search. But it is better to follow
even the shadow of the best than to remain content with the worst.
And those who would see wonderful things must often be ready to travel
alone. I am too old for this journey, but my heart shall be a companion
of thy pilgrimage day and night, and I shall know the end of thy quest.
Go in peace."

Then Abgarus went out of the azure chamber with its silver stars, and
Artaban was left in solitude.

He gathered up the jewels and replaced them in his girdle. For a long
time he stood and watched the flame that flickered and sank upon the
altar. Then he crossed the hall, lifted the heavy curtain, and passed
out between the pillars of porphyry to the terrace on the roof.

The shiver that runs through the earth ere she rouses from her
night-sleep had already begun, and the cool wind that heralds the
daybreak was drawing downward from the lofty snow-traced ravines
of Mount Orontes. Birds, half-awakened, crept and chirped among the
rustling leaves, and the smell of ripened grapes came in brief wafts
from the arbours.

Far over the eastern plain a white mist stretched like a lake. But where
the distant peaks of Zagros serrated the western horizon the sky was
clear. Jupiter and Saturn rolled together like drops of lambent flame
about to blend in one.

As Artaban watched them, a steel-blue spark was born out of the darkness
beneath, rounding itself with purple splendours to a crimson sphere, and
spiring upward through rays of saffron and orange into a point of white
radiance. Tiny and infinitely remote, yet perfect in every part, it