Moreover, she was in doubt, for I could hear her fingering the
handle of the dagger. Then she spoke aloud, words for my ears if they
still were open.
"I am glad," she said, "that he dreamed no other dreams, since had he
done so and babbled of them it would have been ill-omened, and I do not
wish that one who has travelled far to visit us should be hurled to
the death-dogs for burial; one, moreover, who although old and hideous,
still has the air of a wise and silent man."
Now while I shivered at these unpleasant hints--though what the
"death-dogs" in which people were buried might be, I could not
conceive--to my intense joy I heard the foot of the Guardian on the
stairs, heard him too enter the room and saw him bow before the lady.
"How go these sick men, niece?"[*] he said in his cold voice.
[*] I found later that the Khania, Atene, was not Simbri's
niece but his great-niece, on the mother's side.--L. H. H.
"They swoon, both of them," she answered.
"Indeed, is it so? I thought otherwise. I thought they woke."
"What have you heard, Shaman (i.e. wizard)?" she asked angrily.
"I? Oh! I heard the grating of a dagger in its sheath and the distant
baying of the death-hounds."
"And what have you seen, Shaman?" she asked again, "looking through the
Gate you guard?"
"Strange sight, Khania, my niece. But--men awake from swoons.
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