They ran to the doors, and knocked, and strangers opened, and looked inquiringly upon them.

And they said, with great excitement, while their hearts beat high, and the color in their faces came and went, Where is my father?
Where is my mother?
Where are Dionysius and Serapion, and Pericles, and Decius?
And the strangers that opened said, We know not these.

The Seven said, How, you know them not?
How long have ye dwelt here, and whither are they gone that dwelt here before ye?
And the strangers said, Ye play upon us with a jest, young men; we and our fathers have sojourned under these roofs these six generations; the names ye utter rot upon the tombs, and they that bore them have run their brief race, have laughed and sung, have borne the sorrows and the weariness that were allotted them, and are at rest; for nine-score years the summers have come and gone, and the autumn leaves have fallen, since the roses faded out of their cheeks and they laid them to sleep with the dead.
Then the seven young men turned them away from their homes, and the strangers shut the doors upon them.

The wanderers marveled greatly, and looked into the faces of all they met, as hoping to find one that they knew; but all were strange, and passed them by and spake no friendly word.

They were sore distressed and sad.