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 he 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.”

Nebsecht took the heart out of the covering with trembling hands and laid it carefully down.  Then he felt in the breast of his dress, and going up to the paraschites he whispered: 

“Here, take the writing, hang it round your neck, and when you die I will have the book of scripture wrapped up in your mummy cloths like a great man.  But that is not enough.  The property that I inherited is in the hands of my brother, who is a good man of business, and I have not touched the interest for ten years.  I will send it to you, and you and your wife shall enjoy an old age free from care.”

“The paraschites had taken the little bag with the strip of papyrus, and heard the leech to the end.  Then he turned from him saying:  “Keep thy money; we are quits.  That is if the child gets well,” he added humbly.

“She is already half cured,” stammered Nebsecht.  “But why will you—­why won’t you accept—­”

“Because till to day I have never begged nor borrowed,” said the paraschites, “and I will not begin in my old age.  Life for life.  But what I have done this day not Rameses with all his treasure could repay.”

Nebsecht looked down, and knew not how to answer the old man.