The girl’s last question was full of resentment and reproach, and Nebsecht, whose perfect sincerity was part of his very being, was silent, as he would not venture to say yes.  He had asked more in return for his help than gold or silver.  Now he remembered Pentaur’s warning, and when the jackals began to bark he took up the fire-stick,

     [The hieroglyphic sign Sam seems to me to represent the wooden stick
     used to produce fire (as among some savage tribes) by rapid friction
     in a hollow piece of wood.]

and lighted some fuel that was lying ready.  Then he asked himself what Uarda’s fate would be without her grandparents, and a strange plan which had floated vaguely before him for some hours, began now to take a distinct outline and intelligible form.  He determined if the old man did not return to ask the kolchytes or embalmers to admit him into their guild—­and for the sake of his adroitness they were not likely to refuse him—­then he would make Uarda his wife, and live apart from the world, for her, for his studies, and for his new calling, in which he hoped to learn a great deal.  What did he care for comfort and proprieties, for recognition from his fellow-men, and a superior position!

He could hope to advance more quickly along the new stony path than on the old beaten track.  The impulse to communicate his acquired knowledge to others he did not feel.  Knowledge in itself amply satisfied him, and be thought no more of his ties to the House of Seti.  For three whole days he had not changed his garments, no razor had touched his chin or his scalp, not a drop of water had wetted his hands or his feet.  He felt half bewildered and almost as if he had already become an embalmer, nay even a paraschites, one of the most despised of human beings.  This self-degradation had an infinite charm, for it brought him down to the level of Uarda, and she, lying near him, sick and anxious, with her dishevelled hair, exactly suited the future which he painted to himself.

“Do you hear nothing?” Uarda asked suddenly.  He listened.  In the valley there was a barking of dogs, and soon the paraschites and his wife appeared, and, at the door of their hut, took leave of old Hekt, who had met them on her return from Thebes.

“You have been gone a long time,” cried Uarda, when her grandmother once more stood before her.  “I have been so frightened.”

“The doctor was with you,” said the old woman going into the house to prepare their simple meal, while the paraschites knelt down by his granddaughter, and caressed her tenderly, but yet with respect, as if he were her faithful servant rather than her blood-relation.

Then he rose, and gave to Nebsecht, who was trembling with excitement, the bag of coarse linen which he was in the habit of carrying tied to him by a narrow belt.

“The heart is in that,” he whispered to the leech; “take it out, and give me back the bag, for my knife is in it, and I want it.”