A voice from the crowd exclaimed: 

“Make way for my white robe, and leave the preacher Pentaur alone, he is my friend.  You most of you know me.”

“You are Nebsecht the leech, who set my broken leg,” cried a sailor.

“And cured my bad eye,” said a weaver.

“That tall handsome man is Pentaur, I know him well,” cried the girl, whose opinion had been overheard by Bent-Anat.

“Preacher this, preacher that!” shouted the boy, and he would have rushed forward, but the people held him back, and divided respectfully at Nebsecht’s command to make way for him to get at those who had been hurt.

First he stooped over the old paraschites.

“Shame upon you!” he exclaimed.—­You have killed the old man.”

“And I,” said Pentaur, “Have dipped my peaceful hand in blood to save his innocent and suffering grandchild from a like fate.”

“Scorpions, vipers, venomous reptiles, scum of men!” shrieked Nebsecht, and he sprang wildly forward, seeking Uarda.  When he saw her sitting safe at the feet of old Hekt, who had made her way into the courtyard, he drew a deep breath of relief, and turned his attention to the wounded.

“Did you knock down all that are lying here?” he whispered to his friend.

Pentaur nodded assent and smiled; but not in triumph, rather in shame; like a boy, who has unintentionally squeezed to death in his hand a bird he has caught.

Nebsecht looked round astonished and anxious.  “Why did you not say who you were?” he asked.  “Because the spirit of the God Menth possessed me,” answered Pentaur.  “When I saw that accursed villain there with his hand in the girl’s hair, I heard and saw nothing, I—­”

“You did right,” interrupted Nebsecht.  “But where will all this end?”

At this moment a flourish of trumpets rang through the little valley.  The officer sent by Ameni to apprehend the paraschites came up with his soldiers.

Before he entered the court-yard he ordered the crowd to disperse; the refractory were driven away by force, and in a few minutes the valley was cleared of the howling and shouting mob, and the burning house was surrounded by soldiers.  Bent-Anat, Rameri, and Nefert were obliged to quit their places by the fence; Rameri, so soon as he saw that Uarda was safe, had rejoined his sister.

Nefert was almost fainting with fear and excitement.  The two servants, who had kept near them, knit their hands together, and thus carried her in advance of the princess.  Not one of them spoke a word, not even Rameri, who could not forget Uarda, and the look of gratitude she bid sent after him.  Once only Bent-Anat said: 

“The hovel is burnt down.  Where will the poor souls sleep to-night?”

When the valley was clear, the officer entered the yard, and found there, besides Uarda and the witch Hekt, the poet, and Nebsecht, who was engaged in tending the wounded.