By the sound of passing vessels, and the occasional shouts of the
boatmen, Alroy, although he could observe nothing, was conscious that
for some time their course lay through a principal thoroughfare of
the city; but by degrees the sounds became less frequent, and in time
entirely died away, and all that caught his ear was the regular and
monotonous stroke of their own oar.
At length, after the lapse of nearly an hour from their entrance,
the boat stopped, and was moored against a quay. The curtains were
withdrawn, and Honain and his companion debarked.
A low but extensive building, painted in white and gold arabesque, and
irregular but picturesque in form, with many small domes, and tall thin
towers, rose amid groves of cypress on the bank of the broad and silent
river. The rapid stream had carried them far from the city, which was
visible but distant. Around was no habitation, no human being. The
opposite bank was occupied by enclosed gardens. Not even a boat passed.
Honain, beckoning to Alroy to accompany him, but still silent, advanced
to a small portal, and knocked. It was instantly opened by a single
Nubian, who bowed reverently as the visitors passed him. They proceeded
along a low and gloomy passage, covered with arches of fretwork, until
they arrived at a door of tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl.
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