“No, no!” exclaimed Bent-Anat.  “I gave them plenty of money, and the tears which are shed there cannot be staunched with gold.  I will send old Asnath over to-morrow to ask how we can help them.  Look, here comes the procession, Nefert.  How rudely the people press!  As soon as the God is gone by we will go home.”

“Pray do,” said Nefert.  “I am so frightened!” and she pressed trembling to the side of the princess.

“I wish we were at home, too,” replied Bent-Anat.

“Only look!” said Rameri.  “There they are.  Is it not splendid?  And how the heart shines, as if it were a star!”

All the crowd, and with them our three friends, fell on their knees.

The procession paused opposite to them, as it did at every thousand paces; a herald came forward, and glorified, in a loud voice, the great miracle, to which now another was added—­the sacred heart since the night had come on had begun to give out light.

Since his return home from the embalming house, the paraschites had taken no nourishment, and had not answered a word to the anxious questions of the two frightened women.  He stared blindly, muttered a few unintelligible words, and often clasped his forehead in his hand.  A few hours before he had laughed loud and suddenly, and his wife, greatly alarmed, had gone at once to fetch the physician Nebsecht.

During her absence Uarda was to rub her grandfather’s temples with the leaves which the witch Hekt had laid on her bruises, for as they had once proved efficacious they might perhaps a second time scare away the demon of sickness.

When the procession, with its thousand lamps and torches, paused before the hovel, which was almost invisible in the dusk, and one citizen said to another:  “Here comes the sacred heart!” the old man started, and stood up.  His eyes stared fixedly at the gleaming relic in its crystal case; slowly, trembling in every limb, and with outstretched neck he stood up.

The herald began his eulogy of the miracle.

Then, while all the people were prostrate in adoration, listening motionless to the loud voice of the speaker, the paraschites rushed out of his gate, striking his forehead with his fists, and opposite the sacred heart, he broke out into a mad, loud fit of scornful laughter, which re-echoed from the bare cliffs that closed in the valley.

Horror full on the crowd, who rose timidly from their knees.

Ameni, who too, was close behind the heart, started too and looked round on the author of this hideous laugh.  He had never seen the paraschites, but he perceived the glimmer of his little fire through the dust and gloom, and he knew that he lived in this place.  The whole case struck him at once; he whispered a few significant words to one of the officers who marched with the troops on each side of the procession; then he gave the signal, and the procession moved on as if nothing had happened.