Amongst the litter little sapphire-coloured finches were feeding, twittering merrily to themselves as they hopped about, and here and there down the long tables lay asprawl a belated reveller, his empty oblivion-phial before him, his curly head upon his arms, dreaming perhaps of last night's feast and a neglected bride dozing dispassionate in some distant chamber.

But Heru was not there and little I cared for twittering finches or sighing damsels.

With hasty feet I rushed down the hall out into the cool, sweet air of the planet morning.
There I met one whom I knew, and he told me he had been among the crowd and had heard the woodmen had gone no farther than the river gate, that Heru was with them beyond a doubt.

I would not listen to more.

"Good!" I shouted.