He stood motionless, perplexed and. wondering, ... was there a subterranean grotto near at hand where devotional chants were sung?--or, . . and a slight tremor ran through him at the thought, . . was there something supernatural in the music, notwithstanding its human-seeming speech and sound? Just then it ceased, ... all was again silent as before, . . and angry with himself for his own foolish fancies, he set about the task of discovering the "sunken fragment" Heliobas had mentioned. Very soon he found it, driven deep into the soil and so blackened and defaced by time that it was impossible to trace any of the elaborate carvings that must have once adorned it.
In fact it would not have been recognizable as a portion of a gate at all, had it not still possessed an enormous hinge which partly clung to it by means of one huge thickly rusted nail, dose beside it, grew a tree of weird and melancholy appearance--its trunk was split asunder and one half of it was withered. The other half leaning mournfully on one side bent down its branches to the ground, trailing a wealth of long, glossy green leaves in the dust of the ruined city. This was the famous tree called by the natives Athel, of which old legends say that it used to be a favorite evergreen much cultivated and prized by the Babylonian nobility, who loving its pleasant shade, spared no pains to make it grow in their hanging gardens and spacious courts, though its nature was altogether foreign to the soil. And now, with none to tend it or care whether it flourishes or decays, it faithfully clings to the deserted spot where it was once so tenderly fostered, showing its sympathy with the surrounding desolation, by growing always in split halves, one withered and one green--a broken-hearted creature, yet loyal to the memory of past love and joy.
Alwyn stood under its dark boughs, knowing nothing of its name or history,--every now and then a wailing whisper seemed to shudder through it, though there was no wind,-- and he heard the eerie lamenting sigh with an involuntary sense of awe. The whole scene was far more impressive by night than by day,--the great earth mounds of Babylon looked like giant graves inclosing a glittering ring of winding waters. Again he examined the imbedded fragment of the ancient gate,--and then feeling quite certain of his starting-point he set his face steadily toward the southwest,--there the landscape before him lay flat and bare in the beamy lustre of the moon.
The soil was sandy and heavy to the tread,--moreover it was an excessively hot night,--too hot to walk fast. He glanced at his watch,--it was a few minutes past ten o'clock. Keeping up the moderate pace the heat enforced, it was possible he might reach the mysterious field about half-past eleven, . . perhaps earlier. And now his nerves began to quiver with strong excitement, . . had he yielded to the promptings of his own feverish impatience, he would most probably have run all the way in spite of the sultriness of the air,--but he restrained this impulse, and walked leisurely on purpose, reproaching himself as he went along for the utter absurdity of his expectations.