But Owen's horse picked his way very cleverly through the numerous
rubble-heaps, avoiding the great stones protruding from the sand....
These seemed to be becoming more numerous; and Owen reined in his
horse.... He was amid the ruins of a once considerable city, of
which nothing remained but the outlying streets, some doorways, and
many tombs, open every one of them, as if the dead had already been
resurrected. Before him lay the broken lid of a sarcophagus and the
sarcophagus empty, a little sand from the desert replacing the ashes
of the dead man. Owen's horse approached it, mistaking it for a
drinking trough; "and it will serve for one," he said, "in a little
while after the next rainfall. Some broken capitals, fragments of
columns, a wall built of narrow bricks, a few inscriptions... all
that remains of Rome, dust and forgetfulness."
About him the Arabs were seeking a heron and hawks; a falconer
galloped across the plain, waving a lure, in pursuit of another
hawk, so Owen was informed by his dragoman--as if falcon or heron
could interest him at that moment--and he continued to peer into the
inscription, leaving the Arabs to find the birds. And they were
discovered presently among some marbles, the heron's wings
outstretched in death, the great red wound in its breast making it
seem still more beautiful.
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