Explore "The Tour" by Louis Couperus on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"My son," said old Thrasyllus, sitting beside his couch, "do you intend always to cherish your illness and longing, like a serpent that devours you, bone and flesh? The sibyl of Rhacotis merely guessed your own thoughts. The holy Amphris could explain nothing more than that many, who resemble one another, mean only one in the dream. After that, what could your credulity imagine that a crafty hetaira would make you guess in her embrace? The name of that one man? The name of the pirate? The place where he is hiding Ilia? . One pirate? . Who could have stolen her?"
"I don't know," said Lucius, wearily.