they joined their hands; and
again he thought of his parents' house, of the hour when his sweet, only
sister died. His mother had thrown herself weeping on the pale form, but
his father had stamped his foot and had thrown back his head, sobbing and
striking his forehead with his fist.

"How piously submissive and thankful are these unclean ones!" thought
Pentaur; and repugnance for the old laws began to take root in his heart.
"Maternal love may exist in the hyaena, but to seek and find God pertains
only to man, who has a noble aim. Up to the limits of eternity--and God
is eternal!--thought is denied to animals; they cannot even smile. Even
men cannot smile at first, for only physical life--an animal
soul--dwells in them; but soon a share of the world's soul--beaming
intelligence--works within them, and first shows itself in the smile of a
child, which is as pure as the light and the truth from which it comes.
The child of the paraschites smiles like any other creature born of
woman, but how few aged men there are, even among the initiated, who can
smile as innocently and brightly as this woman who has grown grey under
open ill-treatment."

Deep sympathy began to fill his heart, and he knelt down by the side of
the poor child, raised her arm, and prayed fervently to that One who had
created the heavens and who rules the world--to that One, whom the
mysteries of faith forbade him to name; and not to the innumerable gods,
whom the people worshipped, and who to him were nothing but incarnations
of the attributes of the One and only God of the initiated--of whom he
was one--who was thus brought down to the comprehension of the laity.

He raised his soul to God in passionate emotion; but he prayed, not for
the child before him and for her recovery, but rather for the whole
despised race, and for its release from the old ban, for the
enlightenment of his own soul, imprisoned in doubts, and for strength to
fulfil his hard task with discretion.

The gaze of the sufferer followed him as he took up his former position.

The prayer had refreshed his soul and restored him to cheerfulness of
spirit. He began to reflect what conduct he must observe towards the
princess.

He had not met Bent-Anat for the first time yesterday; on the contrary,
he had frequently seen her in holiday processions, and at the high
festivals in the Necropolis, and like all his young companions had
admired her proud beauty--admired it as the distant lig