The salt splay blew in her face.

They were not here! They were not here! Out of the recesses of the rocks, some forms arose, and Heraklas, as in a dream, saw his mother, his proud mother--she who had burned incense to the sun, she who had once held the sacred sistrum in Amun's temple, she who had taught him to worship Isis, and Osiris, and Horus, and the River Nile--his mother throw her arms about Timokles, and kiss his scarred cheek, and sob on the young Christian's neck, "O my son, I have missed thee so! I have missed thee so!" Some ten months later, on the desolate, uninhabited western shore of what the Hebrews called "Yam Suph, the Sea of Weeds," known now as the Red Sea, in the country spoken of by the Romans as part of Ethiopia, now named Nubia, a little company of Christians made ready their evening meal.
Down on the shore a little girl sang.

Her voice rose exultantly in a hymn of the early Christians: "Blessed art thou, O Lord; teach me thy judgments.
"O Lord, thou hast been a refuge for us from generation to generation.
"Thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us.
"Thou hast healed my soul in that I have sinned against thee." "O Lord, to thee I flee for refuge.

Teach me to do thy will Because thou art my God; Because thou art the fountain of life In thy light shall we see light.

Extend thy mercy to them that know thee." Timokles went toward the shore to call Cocce.