She sat by his side in a chair that had feet shaped like to those of an antelope.
Seti walked up and down the terrace beyond the portico leaning on my shoulder, and talking by snatches of this or that.

Occasionally as he passed he would stay for a while to make sure by the bright moonlight that all was well with Merapi and the child, as of late it had become a habit with him to do.

Then without speaking, for fear lest he should awake the boy, he would smile at Merapi, who sat there brooding, her head resting on her hand, and pass on.
The night was very still.

The palm leaves did not rustle, no jackals were stirring, and even the shrill-voiced insects had ceased their cries.

Moreover, the great city below was quiet as a home of the dead.
It was as though the presage of some advancing doom scared the world to silence.