er face, half resting on the lap of the old woman, was graceful
and regular in form, her eyes were half shut-like those of a child, whose
soul is wrapped in some sweet dream-but from her finely chiselled lips
there escaped from time to time a painful, almost convulsive sob.

An abundance of soft, but disordered reddish fair hair, in which clung a
few withered flowers, fell over the lap of the old woman and on to the
mat where she lay. Her cheeks were white and rosy-red, and when the young
surgeon Nebsecht--who sat by her side, near his blind, stupid companion,
the litany-singer--lifted the ragged cloth that had been thrown over her
bosom, which had been crushed by the chariot wheel, or when she lifted
her slender arm, it was seen that she had the shining fairness of those
daughters of the north who not unfrequently came to Thebes among the
king's prisoners of war.

The two physicians sent hither from the House of Seti sat on the left
side of the maiden on a little carpet. From time to time one or the other
laid his hand over the heart of the sufferer, or listened to her
breathing, or opened his case of medicaments, and moistened the compress
on her wounded breast with a white ointment.

In a wide circle close to the wall of the room crouched several women,
young and old, friends of the paraschites, who from time to time gave
expression to their deep sympathy by a piercing cry of lamentation. One
of them rose at regular intervals to fill the earthen bowl by the side of
the physician with fresh water. As often as the sudden coolness of a
fresh compress on her hot bosom startled the sick girl, she opened her
eyes, but always soon to close them again for longer interval, and turned
them at first in surprise, and then with gentle reverence, towards a
particular spot.

These glances had hitherto been unobserved by him to whom they were
directed.

Leaning against the wall on the right hand side of the room, dressed in
his long, snow-white priest's robe, Pentaur stood awaiting the princess.
His head-dress touched the ceiling, and the narrow streak of light, which
fell through the opening in the roof, streamed on his handsome head and
his breast, while all around him was veiled in twilight gloom.

Once more the suffering girl looked up, and her glance this time met the
eye of the young priest, who immediately raised his hand, and
half-mechanically, in a low voice, uttered the words of blessing; and
then once more fixed his