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42 watched its approach as listlessly as if it were but the shadow of a cloud on the water. The sound of the oars was like the measured far-off beat of the wings of a flying swan. The men landed and seemed to murmur to one another in the ancient language of the happy gods; they lifted up the maidens, and their touch was gentle as the caress of a child. Then the day melted into the dark of evening, and one and all the maidens sank into quiet, dreamless slumber.