The portress did as she was directed; and Cybele was no sooner departed than the unhappy lovers could no longer restrain their bitter thoughts and lamentations. Almost in the same instant he cried out "Ο Chariclea!"--She, "Ο Theagenes!" They proceeded to deplore their misfortunes in the same frame of mind and nearly in the same words. They mingled embraces with their complaints, and kisses with their tears. The remembrance of Calasiris drove them at last into audible grief; into cries and sobs; Chariclea particularly, who had known him longer--who had experienced more of his attention, benevolence, and affection. "Ο Calasiris!" she cried out, as well as her sobs would let her, "for I can no longer call you by the sweet name of father; the evil genius who persecutes me, has on all sides deprived me of that endearing appellation. My real father I have never known. I betrayed, alas! and deserted him who adopted me;[14] and have lost him who received, preserved, comforted, and instructed me; and the custom of the priests does not permit me to pay the last tribute of tears over his dear remains. Yet, Ο my preserver (and I will once more call you father), here at least, while I may, I will pour out a libation to you with my tears, and give you offerings from my hair." So saying, she plucked handfuls from her beauteous tresses. Theagenes caught her hands, and besought her to forbear. She, however proceeded in tragic strain[15]--"Why do I continue to live, deprived of such a hope? Calasiris is gone!--the support of my wanderings--my leader in a foreign country, and only guide to my native one--he who could lead me to the knowledge of my parents--our comfort in adversity, our defender from misfortune, our strength, and stay, is lost; and has left us, a miserable pair, ignorant and forlorn, in a foreign land. For want of guidance, it is impossible for us to continue our journey. That grave, bland, wise, and of a truth, _hoary_,[16] soul is fled, and will not see the event of its labours on our behalf." While she was going on thus dolefully, and Theagenes, though he felt deeply for himself, was attempting to compose her, and to repress the violent expressions of her grief, Achæmenes returned; and finding the doors fast, inquired of the old portress the reason. She told him, that it was by his mother's order. While he was wondering what could be her motive, he heard Chariclea lamenting within; and stooping down, and looking through the crevices of the door, he could easily see what passed in the chamber. Again he asked the old woman who those were whom he saw within. She told him--"She knew no more of them, than that they were a youth and maiden, foreigners, as she guessed, whom Cybele had not long before brought with her."