“And how his eyes shone when he spoke of truth as the highest of all virtues!” replied the other.  “All the Gods, I believe, must dwell in him.”

Bent-Anat colored as these words fell on her ear.  It was growing dark, and she wished to return home but Rameri wished to follow the procession as it marched through the western valley by torch-light, so that the grave of his grandfather Seti should also be visited.  The princess unwillingly yielded, but it would in any case have been difficult to reach the river while every one was rushing in the opposite direction; so the two ladies, and Rameri, let themselves be carried along by the crowd, and by the time the daylight was gone, they found themselves in the western valley, where to-night no beasts of prey dared show themselves; jackals and hyenas had fled before the glare of the torches, and the lanterns made of colored papyrus.

The smoke of the torches mingled with the dust stirred by a thousand feet, and the procession moved along, as it were, in a cloud, which also shrouded the multitude that followed.

The three companions had labored on as far as the hovel of the paraschites Pinem, but here they were forced to pause, for guards drove back the crowd to the right and left with long staves, to clear a passage for the procession as it approached.

“See, Rameri,” said Bent-Anat, pointing out the little yard of the hut which stood only a few paces from them.  “That is where the fair, white girl lives, whom I ran over.  But she is much better.  Turn round; there, behind the thorn-hedge, by the little fire which shines full in your (her?  D.W.) face—­there she sits, with her grandfather.”

The prince stood on tip-toe, looked into the humble plot of ground, and then said in a subdued voice “What a lovely creature!  But what is she doing with the old man?  He seems to be praying, and she first holds a handkerchief before his mouth, and then rubs his temples.  And how unhappy she looks!”

“The paraschites must be ill,” replied Bent-Anat.  “He must have had too much wine down at the feast,” said Rameri laughing.  “No doubt of it!  Only look how his lips tremble, and his eyes roll.  It is hideous—­he looks like one possessed.”

[It was thought that the insane were possessed by demons.  A stele admirably treated by F. de Rouge exists at Paris, which relates that the sister-in law of Rameses III., who was possessed by devils, had them driven out by the statue of Chunsu, which was sent to her in Asia.]

“He is unclean too!” said Nefert.

“But he is a good, kind man, with a tender heart,” exclaimed the princess eagerly.  “I have enquired about him.  He is honest and sober, and I am sure he is ill and not drunk.”

“Now she is standing up,” said Rameri, and he dropped the paper-lantern which he had bought at a booth.  “Step back, Bent-Anat, she must be expecting some one.  Did you ever see any one so very fair, and with such a pretty little head.  Even her red hair becomes her wonderfully; but she staggers as she stands—­she must be very weak.  Now she has sat down again by the old man, and is rubbing his forehead.  Poor souls! look how she is sobbing.  I will throw my purse over to them.”