d
people."

He ground his teeth angrily, and thought no more of the defilement which
might threaten Bent-Anat from the paraschites, but exclusively, on
the contrary, of the impending desecration by the princess of the holy
feelings astir in this silent room.

Excited as he was to fanaticism, his condemning lips could not fail to
find vigorous and impressive words.

He stood drawn to his full height and drawing his breath deeply, like
a spirit of light who holds his weapon raised to annihilate a demon of
darkness, and he looked out into the valley to perceive from afar the
cry of the runners and the rattle of the wheels of the gay train he
expected.

And he saw the doorway darkened by a lowly, bending figure, who, with
folded arms, glided into the room and sank down silently by the side of
the sick girl. The physicians and the old people moved as if to rise;
but she signed to them without opening her lips, and with moist,
expressive eyes, to keep their places; she looked long and lovingly in
the face of the wounded girl, stroked her white arm, and turning to the
old woman softly whispered to her

"How pretty she is!"

The paraschites' wife nodded assent, and the girl smiled and moved her
lips as though she had caught the words and wished to speak.

Bent-Anat took a rose from her hair and laid it on her bosom.

The paraschites, who had not taken his hands from the feet of the
sick child, but who had followed every movement of the princess, now
whispered, "May Hathor requite thee, who gave thee thy beauty."

The princess turned to him and said, "Forgive the sorrow, I have caused
you."

The old man stood up, letting the feet of the sick girl fall, and asked
in a clear loud voice:

"Art thou Bent-Anat?"

"Yes, I am," replied the princess, bowing her head low, and in so gentle
a voice, that it seemed as though she were ashamed of her proud name.

The eyes of the old man flashed. Then he said softly but decisively:

"Leave my hut then, it will defile thee."

"Not till you have forgiven me for that which I did unintentionally."

"Unintentionally! I believe thee," replied the paraschites. "The hoofs
of thy horse became unclean when they trod on this white breast. Look
here--" and he lifted the cloth from the girl's bosom, and showed her
the deep red wound, "Look here--here is the first rose you laid on my
grandchild's bosom, and the second--there it goes."

The paraschites raised his arm to fling the flower