“You eat also, Lady,” said Bickley.

“Yes, I eat sometimes because I like it, but I can go weeks and not eat, when I have the Life-water.  Just now, after so long a sleep, I am hungry.  Please give me some of that fruit.  No, not the flesh, flesh I hate.”

We handed it to her.  She took two plantains, peeled and ate them with extraordinary grace.  Indeed she reminded me, I do not know why, of some lovely butterfly drawing its food from a flower.

While she ate she observed us closely; nothing seemed to escape the quick glances of those beautiful eyes.  Presently she said: 

“What, O Humphrey, is that with which you fasten your neckdress?” and she pointed to the little gold statue of Osiris that I used as a pin.

I told her that it was a statuette of a god named Osiris and very, very ancient, probably quite five thousand years old, a statement at which she smiled a little; also that it came from Egypt.

“Ah!” she answered, “is it so?  I asked because we have figures that are very like to that one, and they also hold in their hands a staff surmounted by a loop.  They are figures of Sleep’s brother—­Death.”

“So is this,” I said.  “Among the Egyptians Osiris was the god of Death.”

She nodded and replied that doubtless the symbol had come down to them.

“One day you shall take me to see this land which you call so very old.  Or I will take you, which would be quicker,” she added.

We all bowed and said we should be delighted.  Even Bastin appeared anxious to revisit Egypt in such company, though when he was there it seemed to bore him.  But what she meant about taking us I could not guess.  Nor had we time to ask her, for she went on, watching our faces as she spoke.

“The Lord Oro sends you a message, Strangers.  He asks whether it is your wish to see where we dwell.  He adds that you are not to come if you do not desire, or if you fear danger.”

We all answered that there was nothing we should like better, but Bastin added that he had already seen the tomb.

“Do you think, Bastin, that we live in a tomb because we slept there for a while, awaiting the advent of you wanderers at the appointed hour?”

“I don’t see where else it could be, unless it is further down that cave,” said Bastin.  “The top of the mountain would not be convenient as a residence.”

“It has not been convenient for many an age, for reasons that I will show you.  Think now, before you come.  You have naught to fear from us, and I believe that no harm will happen to you.  But you will see many strange things that will anger Bickley because he cannot understand them, and perhaps will weary Bastin because his heart turns from what is wondrous and ancient.  Only Humphrey will rejoice in them because the doors of his soul are open and he longs—­what do you long for, Humphrey?”

“That which I have lost and fear I shall never find again,” I answered boldly.